


Fate

by nadie2



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Greg Lestrade, Alpha Jim Moriarty, Alpha John Watson, Asexual Character, Asexual Sherlock Holmes, M/M, Omega Mycroft Holmes, Omega Sherlock Holmes, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23764108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nadie2/pseuds/nadie2
Summary: This story exists in a world where the West never had the Middle Ages, and so computers have been around for 500 years. Every detail of people's lives are determined by a sentient computer, including who you will marry. It's also omegaverse. Mycroft is resisting a marriage to Jim Moriarty, while secretly dating Greg. Meanwhile, an asexual Sherlock is panicking about how much he likes his new mate John Watson.Fun fact this was supposed to be a fluffy soulmate fic, but I have no control over my writing so it's actually completly dystopian.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 19
Kudos: 75





	1. Mycroft's Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated based on the amazing edits of Lovelocked. The other chapters will be coming before long.

The alarm starts softly, Mycroft tries mimic the sleeping rhythm of his breath so that Computer does not know that he has woken. The wall speaker beeps in a tone that Mycroft can't endure while the lights flare in a way which is almost painful to him. He doesn't know why he tried to fool the computer, it's not like it's ever worked before. He jumps out of a bed with a sigh and walks over to the preparation wall where water (never quite as warm or as fast as he'd like) spills down on him while dozens of mechanical arms begin scrubbing.  
"You have a breakfast date with your betrothed," a voice informs him.

"I know," Mycroft says in a tone which is a bit snippy. Tang -50 Units appear on the edge of his vision. It's a rather small penalty for using a rude voice toward Computer, and clearly is taking into account the fact that he hasn't had his coffee yet.

"My apologies," he says with his eyes still closed so that he can hear five cheerful positive chirps, so much more rewarding than the single image of +5 Units. The water turns off, and Mycroft obediently opens his mouth for the mechanical teeth cleaner and puts out his arms for the grooming apparatus to attend to him as it bustles about fixing his hair, nails, and skin. It spends some extra time about his right cheek this morning. When he was a teenager, he might have asked for a mirror so he could peer at whatever caused the impurity, but he is far beyond that now. Mycroft no longer associates his outward appearance with the inward man.

His coffee-strong and with the bitter and the sweet still mixed together-slides out of the wall towards him. It's considered a very odd request. Mycroft had to have a special machine installed in his room for it because in these days where taste and nutrition were separated by science few people choose bitter. If you lived in a world where a cake meets all the nutritional needs of a plate of veg and protein, why would you choose anything but the most pleasing? The fact was that his morning didn't quite feel like it had begun without a bit of bitter. Mycroft needed it to brace him against the day.

It's the perfect temperature, and is, in truth, perfect in every other way. Mycroft can taste the exact amount of mind-altering chemicals. Not just the caffeine which he thinks belongs, but the serotonin, oxytocin, dopamine everyone received with each meal since birth, and a mild sedative that he'd received ever since that ill-fated attempt at arguing with his teachers when he was a teenager.

It tastes wrong, not like real coffee would. Mycroft has never tasted real food or drink of course, only the chemical substitute which has sustained humanity for the last few centuries, and the history books assure him that all of this tastes better. A part of him thoroughly believes what the history books say about it being horrible to actually find or grow food, and then cook and eat it, even if you didn't like what was for dinner that night. This way of receiving nutrients was simply better and prevented no end of diseases, but it wasn't quite the same. Mycroft was certain.

As he walks to the wall panel, he takes another sip of the coffee and presses a button on the screen. Personal information crowds his vision, another reminder of his morning date, along with six texts from his fiancé. He clicks through the texts as quick as he can, sending just one back against the number he'd received since last night. He's been communicating with Moriarty long enough that he can do it without any real thought.

Daily Monitoring :Sherlock Holmes: loss of 1000 Units yesterday. Mycroft scans the list-all minor things. Sherlock is running low on funds, to the point where he will save them by skipping his noon nutritional tea. He'll never understand his brother valuing the ability to be rude more than needing to eat. Mycroft sighs and transfers his brother 1000 Units of his own money.

Ting +100 Units. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Computer was almost as fond of his brother as he was.

He presses the news button, and takes a slow sip of his coffee, hoping to spend a bit more time before the screen. Tang -30 units. This was a big loss considering the units he'd just given to his brother. He holds the sigh in that he desperately wants to let out, because it would mean the loss of more Units. He drinks quickly and sets the cup down on the waiting shelf. As a pleasant ding goes off alerting him to the fact that he has completed all his homework the night before, he turns to leave his sleeping chamber. His mother is at the door waiting for him. 

"Good morning, Mother," he says giving her a genuine smile, and submitting to a hug, kiss, and even allowing her to call him, "Mycke," even though at twenty-three he considered himself much too old to be called such things. +50 Units.

"Don't worry dear," his mother says with a smile, "I'll make the next transfer that your brother needs."

"You'd better save your Units, mother," he says.

"Oh, I've more than I need, and after all he's my son. If I'd taught him the proper way to behave, I don't suppose he'd be so rude now." Her eyes flick to the side, and Mycroft can't help but wonder if she was rewarded or punished for the comment. Her eyes betray nothing knowing that reacting to such things was not encouraged.

"Have a good day mother," he says. Ting +5 Units.

A buzzing alerts him that he is behind his timetable as he turns to leave his Mother. He steps outside and enters the back seat of the waiting transport vehicle. He presses the news button now and scans the article because reading the news while traveling is not counted as wasted time.

It's odd that Mycroft, a 23-year-old Omega remains unbonded. Most Omegas wouldn't even attempt such a thing. The very idea of rebellion was worked out of most people in primary school with the reward system. Mycroft himself had been more than a little bit surprised by the lack of punishment his delay had caused. He'd prepared, of course, to take any loss of units, or even...worse things (which he found it hard to imagine) as punishment for resisting bonding. 

Computer no doubt has motives for the lack of punishment, and Mycroft vowed to make himself as useful as possible so those motives continued to apply.

After all Computer was incapable of mistakes, and when she picked the one you were supposed to marry that was truly all you should need. Most Omegas only went on a few dates starting when they turned sixteen before starting the long process toward marriage. Then they would produce the required two (or the optional three or four) children while they were in their prime childbearing years, generally finishing between their twenty-fifth and thirtieth year. Then they would finish their educations and begin business.

Honestly, Mycroft had planned on doing exactly that before he met the fiancé whom had been selected for him. Moriarty had given him an odd feeling in his gut that he hadn't explained. He'd read about it in old books, books before Computers existed to watch over people their whole lives and prevent crime and pain and abuse. At the end of his search through the leather and paper database , he had been able to identify the unexplained feeling. But Computer would never pick someone for Mycroft who would hurt him.

Still, Mycroft had decided that every year he didn't have to live with Moriarty was a victory. He'd gone through some steps of courting now and again, particularly when Computer's punishments for turning down a hand hold became worse than actually holding the snake's hand. He seemed to be getting away with it for a good long time now, but lately the dates that Computer scheduled for him had been increasing in frequency. He was beginning to think that his time was finally running out.

-5 Units. For a moment, Mycroft worries that his worst fear has come true and Computer has learned to read his thoughts (that would be the finishing of him), but no, he is merely nibbling on his fingernails again. Quite right, not sanitary. He presses his hand to the door panel to administer 1 Sanitation Application with an almost ritualistic fervor. A bright light and liquid cover his hands, and a safe feeling settles in Mycroft's heart, along with the Ting +20 Units blinking in his eye. Before the computer people died of disease, murder, and neglect.  
It is better this way, he tells himself, squaring his shoulders. Even it meant he had to date Moriarty.

The door of the transport opens, and Mycroft stands to walk into the bakery, as he exits he sees the man himself. Moriarty is there before him. He always is. Their hired chaperone is as well. Mrs. Hudson is an elderly omega who feels much wearier of Moriarty than Mycroft does himself. She's got units saved up from doing goodness knows what during her long exciting life and doesn't particularly care about showing her emotions.

Mrs. Hudson has only a teacup in front of her, even though all of the food and drinks served at this bakery, like all food served outside of homes, work places, or schools, contained no calories or drugs.

Moriarty had chosen a banana which he will no doubt eat in a way that would have Mycroft blushing when he was sixteen, but which he is now desensitized to.

Mycroft orders his tea the way he does when he is around Moriarty-four sugars, two honeys, and half a cup of heavy cream in a mint tea, along with a fruit pastry. It has nothing to do with his real taste in tea, and Mycroft delights in keeping everything from Moriarty that he can. Computer has always discouraged Mycroft from making facial expressions even more than with others, as well as the more subtle acts of deception. Mycroft doesn't know why, but he practices the skill whenever he can, even going so far as to eat food he hated in front of the man he's to spend his life with.

"Love," Moriarty says, standing with a smile to greet Mycroft with a kiss on each cheek. 

Mycroft sits down. "How are you today?" he asks formally, taking a sip of the tea while giving a bit of a side grin to Mrs. Hudson. Usually the omega plays the role of a proper chaperone, not saying a word unless something inappropriate happens, but now and again she puts in a thought of her own. Truth be told Mycroft would rather have tea with her than with Moriarty.

“Are you set to do Sherlock’s date this afternoon?” he asks her.

“Of course, dear, and don’t you worry. I’m sure his young Omega will be just lovely. Computer really is quite good at picking pairs.” She glances across the table and adds the word “usually”. 

Moriarty resents the lack of focus and the pointed comments and retaliates by rubbing his foot against Mycroft’s who shivers involuntary but does not pull away. This is a touch he can tolerate and tolerating it tends to prevent the more intrusive kinds. 

“I have a flower here,” Moriarty says, taking a single carnation from his lapel.

“You’ve been offering flowers to me for years and I’ve never accepted. One might think that you would take a hint. 

“The longer you delay the third stage of courting the more dates Computer gives us. You’d think you might take a hint.”  
Instead Mycroft takes a sip of tea. 

Moriarty leans forward wearing that sickening smile of his and says, “You were mine when you were born, Mycroft Holmes, and I’ll have you one way or the other.”

“Computer outlawed slavery an awfully long time ago. I don't belong to anyone,” Mycroft replies, unnerved by talk which would undo lesser Omegas. Sometimes he thinks that’s why he was given Moriarty as a pair. After all, almost everyone gets a mate and Moriarty would probably damage Mycroft far less than he would someone else. Maybe Computer wasn’t powerful enough to protect everyone sometimes and it simply had to settle for the least amount of damage. It made him feel better to think that, as if his pain at least had the purpose of protecting others.

Mycroft knows that Moriarty lost units whenever he made Mycroft uncomfortable, mostly because Mycroft could hear the noise of loss even though Moriarty refused to glance at the numbers. He didn’t know how many points it was, though, and certainly not enough for him to rethink his behavior.

A ding of release sounds and Mycroft takes one last sip of tea before heading off to class without more than a goodbye head nod to Mrs. Hudson.

The transport ride to school only gives him the time to read and respond to increasingly frantic texts from his brother. He assures Sherlock that Computer will choose the right person for him, and he really does believe that even if his brother probably thinks he doesn't. After all, Sherlock knows how Mycroft feels about his own match, but honestly most people seem to feel quite delighted with their matches, and after all things were worse in the days before Computer took over such things.

Five hundred years ago people would wander through dating sites unguided and made decisions about whether or not to be with someone simply by looking at someone's pictures and swiping either to the right or to the left based mostly on appearance. In the years before that people generally married people they met through school or work or in bars. Barely half of the unions people made for themselves worked out, and while Mycroft was horrified that one out of a thousand omegas suffered abuse in the current world he knew that number was once one out of six. Of course, the reward and punishment system coupled with cameras everywhere made it easy to remove children and Omegas from abusive and neglectful homes. This eliminated most of the violence from people, but the few who remained mate-less were mostly those who had too high of a statistical likelihood to hurt their mate.

It was better for most people, even if for Mycroft it had a bit downside. He wondered sometimes how many people were miserable with their mates but simply grinned and bore it since it was quite the expected thing to do.

It won’t end well. You don’t understand- SH

Mycroft clenches his jaw and puts the phone away. Sometimes his wishes that his brother would realize that not everything was about him. He closes his eyes for one second before the door opens, and he puts on a bright smile to enter his school.

Of course, Computer individualized all learning, and balanced this perfectly with age appropriate social interaction, so Mycroft had been doing work above grade level ever since he was in reception. He'd taken his first college class at thirteen and could have finished his doctorate years back if he'd wanted to. The fact that he was still in school was part of his excuse for not marrying Moriarty, but also school was all that Mycroft had ever known, and he was more than a little terrified what would be waiting for him beyond it.

He enters a classroom for 23-25-years of age from London who are interested in political fields and takes his seat. While he waits for the morning discussion to begin, he opens his dissertation.

An encouraging silent message pops up on the side of the screen: "Our data analysis determines that this document is of high quality. Please send to your committee for feedback from human reviewers, and advance toward graduation."

There really isn't any way to put this off any further, Mycroft knows. He's gotten that message every morning for a week, and there is only so much time you can spend messing with the margins. Besides, perhaps it is time, past time, that he goes forward with his new life.

He presses the send button just as his room is called to attention by the teacher. First assignment: analyze front page news.


	2. Sherlock's Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out what asexuality is like for Sherlock, and he gets to meet John. Who he really didn't want to like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated with edits from my amazing beta.

Sherlock huffs at his phone. Mycroft has stopped responding to him. It's probably for the best, he realizes, even if he really doesn't like it. Sherlock was just about to spill everything to his brother over a text, but if he is going to tell his brother the truth (which is never incredibly wise) than he would best do it in person at least. Sometimes the computer diverted resources away from oral conversations when it was busy, but it’s algorithms never missed scanning a text message.

He sighs and leans back in his seat of the transport. Tang (-10 Units) tells Sherlock that his homework is unfinished, and that he could be doing it right now. He grumbles to himself that It is not fair that the system distributes the same amount of time per homework assignment (ten minutes times age minus five) no matter your ability level. At sixteen, Sherlock is almost done with a bachelor’s degree and he resents being given as much work as a student who had yet to master algebra, particularly when he masters more during the school day than they ever could.

He wants to keep his eyes shut and ignore the loss of Units, but he feels guilt, that his brother gifted him those very Units this morning. So, Sherlock pulls the tablet computer out of his backpack and places his thumb on it to unlock the screen.  
His first task is to balance a dozen chemistry equations. He manages half of them without a thought, and then only makes it through two more before the transport arrives. Ting +50 Units for the effort. Computer rewarded you more for beginning than finishing. Sherlock would love to see the algorithm for that one day.

The room of 16-18-year-olds Sherlock enters is filled with students who are studying at various rates and levels with the majority being those who are taking their first chemistry class in high school. Still, age appropriate interaction is a priority of Computer so that Sherlock can be properly adjusted. Efforts in that direction had failed when it came to Sherlock since he had resisted Computer's manipulation from early childhood. He did not play with other children no matter the reward, and he honestly believed this would be enough to protect him from a forced mating. 

Sherlock knew that marriage was not for him from the moment he had first been able to understand that it existed. People assure him in a laughing, patronizing sort of way that he is going to be excited about getting married someday. Sherlock had been fine until the class of thirteen year olds when the classroom began to buzz with stories of people who had crushes and news of who was considered the most 'hot'.

For a time, Sherlock had tried to keep a list of the things which made someone 'hot' in the hopes that he would be able to correctly identify, categorize, and predict whether a person would be considered hot or not. He had given it up after discovering that it was very individual and that there were no categories or rules which could explain it. He also began to realize that it was something that he just did not register as most people did.

By the time they’d turned fourteen it had come the sexual jokes and the stolen kisses, and this was an entire world that Sherlock did not belong to. He was used to not belonging though, and most of the time it did not bother him. But occasionally he had a rock in his stomach when he thought of how the decision about whether he would eventually fit into this world would not really be forced upon him. Computer decided if he was going to marry, and if it did, well, then he'd have to, wouldn't he? He would be compelled even if the idea of having sex made him nauseous, and all he ever thought of when he saw people kissing was how unhygienic it was.

That day had finally come. Tonight, Sherlock is going to be meeting the man that he will have to marry. He is afraid that he is not going to like him, and he is a little bit more afraid that he might like him. After all, most people do like the mates that Computer selected for them, and Sherlock hates the idea of meeting one of the few humans that he could tolerate, but eventually disappointing them.  
After all, what exactly is the point of an Omega who has no desire to mate?

Sherlock takes his seat and opens the chemical equations. He balances them as the teacher starts a discussion on something that he's known about for years. He is losing Units for not being perfectly focused, but he is doing a bit better than breaking even by doing his homework for once.

The next piece is an essay, dull, easy topic. Sherlock manages it in a few minutes even with the interruption of putting forth his idea in the actual classroom discussion. Then the lecture starts, and he spends some time serious time reviewing for the final tests which will cap the end of his junior year of college although he is only sixteen.

-0-

Sherlock leans his back against the wall, and takes out a mirror that he carries in his pocket to look at himself and fluff his hair in a way which he is certain will look like nothing more than vanity by passersby before meeting his future mate, but which in reality has far more to do with gathering as much information as possible about this individual before they officially meet.

The man waiting at the table with Mrs. Hudson is shorter than the average Alpha, sorter even than Sherlock, although Sherlock is tall for an Omega. The Alpha’s hair is cut short, and he has a muscular build. Chatting easily with Mrs. Hudson he shows a wide comfortable smile on his face. Why on Earth would Computer pair him with one of those people who found it easy to get along with everyone they come across? Sherlock feels like the whole thing was some sort of joke, and the whole world might just be pretending that they were satisfied with the mate that Computer selected for them.

Sherlock steels himself with a deep breath and walks around the corner toward his future (such as it is). The Alpha stands from the table to greet him, and the smile slowly disappears when he looks upon his new mate’s face. Sherlock's disappointed him already, and he has no idea what he's done.

"Are you quite all right? You don't look so good," his mate says, then face-palms. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to say that! God, that is not the way to begin, is it? I just mean...you look a bit sickly. But otherwise you look...incredibly good."

Sherlock feels himself blushing, which is an utterly ridiculous thing to do. After all he knows that many people find him hot (whatever that means) but he does not want this man to approve of him that way. "I'm a bit nervous I suppose," Sherlock mumbles, taking his seat.

"Yes, well, I can certainly understand the nervousness," his mate says, also sitting down while flashing that disarming smile once again. "I'm called John Watson. What do they call you?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

"I just figured our first meeting must have happened because it was your birthday, Happy Birthday. I hope you don't mind that I ordered you a cake. I know it's rather presumptuous to think you know what an Omega wants to eat before you've ever met them, but everyone deserves a bit of cake on their birthday."

"Thank you, that will be lovely," Sherlock mutters genuinely Surprised.”

"I didn't order your tea though," John says waving his hand to the waiter. "I didn't have any idea how you take it."

"How old are you?" Sherlock asks abruptly, changing the topic completely He has never been particularly good at guessing age. It generally had so little to do with someone's actions that it was not worth the time learning how to figure out.

"Eighteen, so I'm a bit older than you," John says. "You've probably not picked a subject in school yet?"

"Actually I have. Chemistry."

"He's done quite a few university classes already," Mrs. Hudson says helpfully.

John's eyebrows raise. "Oh, you're a clever one then. Well, I won’t claim to be even half so clever as you, but I am studying to be a doctor.   
Only one year ahead of the mean age though."

"Still good, above average." Sherlock blushes again, unconsciously tightening his shoulders in an attempt make himself appear smaller. John is not going to be impressed with his intelligence (he had not expected that to be a point in his favor actually) if Sherlock keeps making replies which are little more than the defining of terms.

John still grins at him as if Sherlock's amazing though. "So, chemistry. What made you interested in such a thing?”

“I think it's best you know right from the start that I am not going to be the sort of Omega who sits at home. I am going to have an education now and a career later," Sherlock says rather defensively.

"Right, of course," John says. "I just mean’t that there are a lot of things in the world, and you decided to study this one in particular."

"It's simple," Sherlock says. "Steady. Chemical equations don't change the rules on you part way through like people do."  
John nods.

"So, what made you want to be a doctor then?"

"It's cliché of course, but I like helping people. Everything is so terribly automated now days that most jobs don't need a person so much as a cog in the wheel. There are some jobs though, doctors, education, where you've got to be clever and think on your toes. I don't particularly like children, so there we are."

"You don't like children?" Sherlock says staring at him in shock.

"Oh, God," John says closing his eyes. "That was a daft thing to say on a first date. It's not as if I'm a monster who hates children."

"I don't like children," Sherlock says. "I just never thought....I mean it's sort of expected you know. I was surprised you felt the same."

John looks at him with an open look of love, and then they both look away grinning. Sherlock is profoundly relieved when John looks away. This was not the way that it was supposed to go. He didn't want to like him.

The waiter finally arrives to deliver Sherlock's cake and take his tea order. "Thank you for the cake," Sherlock says seriously. He usually does not eat the calorie less food that people do for social purposes or for comfort or for all the other reasons he does not understand. He takes his needed nutrients in the form of biscuits and tea three times a day. Two if he's got something more important than food on his mind.  
"Anytime," John says with a wide grin. Sherlock takes a bite. 

"Was I..." John pauses, and then takes a breath before continuing. "Am I what you were expecting?"

"I find it imprudent to predict in the absence of data," Sherlock replies.

"Right, but am I...I just mean am I anything like the sort of Alpha you normally go for?"

How did John guess it so quickly? Sherlock panicked inside of his head. "I...I don't know," Sherlock stammers.

"Right, sorry, too personal," John says, glancing at Mrs. Hudson as if he would feel a whole lot better if she were to start scolding him. Instead she gives him a tight smile.

Sherlock looks up at him with hopeful eyes. "I know I must be quite the disappointment, but I promise that I'll try-"

"No! You're not a disappointment! Not at all!" John objects quickly and a little too loudly. Others in the tea shop glance their way, but John doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to them at all, just Sherlock. "I'm sorry I even brought it up. I've just been putting my foot in my mouth for the whole of the conversation!"

"That's how first dates go, my dear," Mrs. Hudson says. "Spare a thought for all those people years ago who used to have hundreds of these in a lifetime.”

John gives her another comforting smile. Then he turns that same look to Sherlock, and Sherlock basks in reflected glory.

"You probably wished you'd been matched with an older mate," Sherlock says. He was hoping for a younger one himself. He knows it is not uncommon for Omegas who turn sixteen to be paired with older Alphas and married in a couple of months. Sherlock doesn't want to get married, and he certainly doesn't want to get married soon.

"No, actually I was relieved to be able to be honest with you. When I turned sixteen Computer told me that I had a few years before I would meet the one that I was intended for. I like the idea of people finishing their education before things get terribly serious, especially before people reproduce."

Sherlock looks down, feeling his chest fill with hope.

"That's...okay? You weren't thinking of a quick engagement were you?" John's voice says, worried.

"I'm very relieved," Sherlock says, looking up at him with appreciation. 

John grins. "Computer does tend to do a very good job of putting people together, so I guess we shouldn't have been surprised."

"It didn't do a good job with my brother," Sherlock says. John flinches at the sound of Sherlock's units disappearing, and looks completely startled when Sherlock doesn't react to the noise. 

"You could apologize for insulting Computer, and it would give you some of the units back," John points out, taking a slow sip of the tea.  
Sherlock sighs, knowing he shouldn't waste the Units his brother gave him. After all, his brother did work hard to earn them. "I apologize, Computer. I trust your infinite wisdom in the matching. You know what is best for Mycroft."

Computer detects his sarcasm, and only gives him a few points back for the attempt. John gives him an incredulous look, and Sherlock shrugs.

"So, what do you like to do with your spare time?" John prompts.

"I do...experiments," Sherlock says.

"Oh? What kind?" he says, genuinely interested.

Mrs. Hudson shakes her head at him, but she did not need to do that. Sherlock is more than a bit aware that no one else wants to know about this. He shrugs.

John's facial expression is one that is shared with a cat who has just been sprayed in the face with a water bottle. It takes only a few seconds for him to gather himself for another attempt. "What sort of shows do you like?"

"I don't watch much telly."

"Music then?"

Sherlock brightens up. "Wagner."

"Oh? I don't know them. They sound like German band."

Sherlock sighs. " German opera."

"Oh," John says in surprise. "Well, should we sync our social media?" he asks, fishing his sync disk up so he can tap it to Sherlock's.  
Sherlock shrugs, fishing his own out. "I'll warn you though. There really isn't much on mine."

"Right, me either. It's not the best use of time as far as I am concerned," Johns says, pinning his disk against Sherlock's anyway. As they touch, the table spurts a tiny flash of sanitizer across both of them form a cleverly camouflaged nozzle.

Sherlock takes a bite of cake, and then with mischievous eyes pushes the cake toward John. John freezes, clearly not sure whether or not Sherlock had actually intended to offer him food, which means going into the second level of their relationship. He meets Sherlock's eyes and sees that Sherlock means it. He selects a piece of silverware and sinks it into the cake. He makes eye contact as he put it into his mouth, and the eye contact lasts even after the bite is gone.

"It's so beautiful!" Mrs. Hudson exclaims whipping her eyes with the napkin. "The two of you, on your very first date committing to each other like this."

Sherlock and John's eyes meet again, and they both chuckle at her. Sherlock takes another bite of the cake, and then Sherlock does something that he has not done since his brother turned sixteen and met the person he was supposed to marry. He trusts Computer. He believes that he is meant to be with John. 

"Right now, I'm doing an experiment on the decomposition rates of rats of various sizes. Well, the rats are still alive, but I've been feeding them at different rates, so it's early days of the experiment."

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson says alarmed, and turning to John with a concerned look on her face, clearly certain that he has just destroyed everything.

"Is there an upward limit in how much the rats will eat, or do you find they will eat whatever you give them?" John asks.

Mrs. Hudson stares at him in shock.

"It's critical to limit their exercise capacity. They eat more when they are bored."

"So, they are not so different than people then," John says, Causing a sudden break into giggle from the new couple.

"It's not decent," Mrs. Hudson objects while clearly approving of their antics.


	3. Mycroft's Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft sneaks a way from the computer for a meeting in the woods.

Mycroft double checks that he has laid all of his technology on the bedside table-his watch, sych device, and screen. Then he steps out on the balcony, and stretches -nine seconds, don't turn your head. That should be enough to make the camera grow bored, but he mustn't check. Even the smallest child knows that checking to see if a screen has stopped focusing on you was a way to guarantee that it would be focused on you for a long time. Mycroft steps out on the fire escape, a rather old and ornate spiral staircase, and walks out of the house.

Everyone knows you can't hide from Computer, but that doesn't change the fact that Mycroft has been able to do it for the last couple of years. He walks along a bath which has been worn by his feet-a path which avoids the cameras. Then he enters the woods, and his heart feels lighter. He is seen every moment of the day, and it's nice to not be seen. The mask which Computer has taught him to wear falls off his face, and he feels safe, and at home.

At the heart of the woods he sees the person that he was really looking for. "Gregory," he says smiling.

"God I love the way you light up when you see me," Greg says lighting up himself. Then his face falls, "How did Sherlock's first date go?" he says with concern.

"He wouldn't talk about it, but he kept blushing, and he managed to have a few good things to say about the man. I look forward to meeting him, and am just glad it didn't go as terribly as my first experience."

Greg nods, and he moves forward in an attempt to scent him. Mycroft takes a step back. "I've got some pretty big news, and I don't know how you're going to react."

"Okay," Greg says still smiling. Greg always smiles when he's around Mycroft, except when Mycroft is talking about his fiance when he always looked like he was in pain.

Mycroft hopes this won't wipe the smile off his face, "I'm pregnant," he says.

"Oh my God," Greg says, and the smile is certainly not gone. He steps forward, "We..." but then he drops the hand he was reaching out, "I'm sorry, not we. You have to tell me what you are thinking."

Mycroft's mouth drops open. He's alone either way? He thought...

"I'm not abandoning you, God no," Greg says, "I'll be there no matter what you choose, but you have to make the choice. I haven't fought for omega rights my whole life only to deny them to the person I love when he needed them. When I say an omega has a right to choose what happens to their body I mean it. You've got to tell me what you want."

"I want you to tell me what you want," Mycroft says.

"You're going to lose this game of chicken, love," Greg says, and he sounds like he can't get a breath in.

"I know the logical thing would be to let you bite me, and I want that I do. I want to mate with you more than anything else in the world, but I don't want to do it at the cost of this baby. I want to have it first," he looks anxiously at Greg waiting for his reaction.

He breaks into an even wider grin, "Yes! Thank God," he says stepping forward to put a hand over Mycroft's scent gland in a protective fashion.

"You don't want to mate with me?" Mycroft says with his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Oh, I want to bond with you, and I really want to spend almost every moment with you, but I want to get this one safely into the world first," Greg says knowing that bond bites were such an effective form of birth control it was the only one most couples used.

"It's dangerous for us to bring this child into the world without being bonded."

"I know," Greg says stepping forward tilting his head against Mycroft's, "And I am aware that it's only a bundle of cells, but I find myself attached.

"Me to," Mycroft says sounding relieved.

Greg drops down to his knees without warning, and rubs his hand against his lover's stomach. Mycroft puts his hands around Greg's head, and holds it there, and they stand like that in silence for a bit. Then Greg kisses his stomach.

"You far enough along you've felt morning sickness yet?"

"Just a bit," Mycroft admits.

"You should have called me. I would have come, Mycroft," Greg scolds rubbing his face against Mycroft's stomach some more, knowing that the womb scenting decreases all of the negative symptoms of pregnancies.

"Computer monitors all calls," Mycroft reminds him.

"And that still matters does it?" Greg says looking up at him nervously.

"How could it not?" Mycroft says.

Greg stands up, "When you said you were keeping the baby...you mean you want to do it alone? I'm not to be involved what so ever?"

"You...we agreed we were not going to bond, that we were going to have this baby."

"Yes, and if the only way you'll do that while only meeting in the woods a few times a week, then that's fine. But I want to be next to you while you do this."

"You want to live with me before we're bonded?" Mycroft asks in surprise.

"Yes."

"Out in front of anyone? Even in front of the computer?"

"Yes."

"Okay, then I'm going to make plans before it's time to leave. Our next meeting is at my house four o'clock."

"You want me to just go up and ring the doorbell?"

Mycroft nods. "Contingency plan."

"We don't need those anymore. I know for two years we've needed to know when to meet if one of us had to miss each other. We don't need to do that anymore, because we won't be a secret anymore."

"But if you can't come for some reason I might never see you again. This is why we have a contingency plan." 

"All right," Greg says, "This is our contingency plan forever-I will text you."

Mycroft's eyes tear up, "You okay?" Greg asks softly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just...this is going to be real. This is going to be real tomorrow. And... I don't have to choose between you and this baby."

"Of course not," Greg promises.

Mycroft lets out a happy sigh, "You'll hold me for a while."

Greg nods taking off his jacket to spread it across the ground, and the couple lay down upon the coat. They wrap their limbs around each other and bestow each other with lazy kisses. 

"You want to keep living with your folks house after the baby's born?"

Mycroft smiles, "After the baby is born and we're bonded?"

Greg grins kissing his love's bond might before pulling back enough to say, "Yes, you want to get our own place after it is born and we are bonded?"

"Yeah, but not until then. We're going to be having enough changes in the next little bit."

Greg runs his hands through Mycroft's hair, "One thing that is never going to change is that I love you."

Mycroft buries his head into Greg's chest blushing, Greg loves the way that his lover blushes whenever he feels romantic feelings. "I love you too," Mycroft mutters.

"And I am so glad that we are having a baby, and so glad that this..." Greg sighs knowing that this falls under the category of things he should probably not say, but he says it anyway, "I'm glad that this ends the things between you and Moriarty."

"So am I," Mycroft says, "I've felt guilty for not having done that years ago, but..."

"I understand, it's not as easy to do as it is to say. I never blamed you. I understood."

"Besides, you're still with Lilly," Mycroft says he shifts a bit to look his partner in the eye, "You know that my parents are going to ask you about her right?"

"I figured," Greg says seriously.

"So how about you tell me what you are going to tell them?"

Greg blinks at him, "What do you mean?"

"I mean...you've never really talked about her. You told me..." Mycroft signs, "It was enough for me to know that you didn't fancy her, and that you weren't physical with her before. Now...I've got to know why are are with me instead of the person Computer picked for you before we end up doing forever here."

"I love you," Greg says sounding hurt.

"I'm not saying that I doubt you. That's not what this is. I just have to understand. Computer is never supposed to make a mistake, and it made two. I have to know...what's wrong with Lily?"

"She's not as bad as Moriarty. She's not...bad at all," Greg says. 

Mycroft pulls away.

"No, none of that. She made the decision that we shouldn't be together. She's asexual. I don't know if Computer was really wrong in this case. We do make great friends, and both of us are glad that we know each other."

"Most people who are asexual don't get assigned a romantic partner or are simply assigned to another asexual or someone else who would not want to have sex," Mycroft points out.

"It's true that we are told that, and it might even be true. But we are also told that every single pair on the planet is a perfect pair, and all of them want each other," Greg says, "I know some asexuals are talked into doing thins they don't want to. They are told by their partner that if they weren't meant to have sex they would not have been paired with them. Lilly knows people who have been pressured. So when the computer matched her with me...maybe that was the best choice Computer could make."

"Some asexuals aren't matched with anyone. If the computer knew what it was doing it could prevent people from having that kind of pressure."

"I don't pretend to understand it Mycroft. I wish the Computer had matched me with you, but short of that...this wasn't so bad. I like her. We are friends, and she is no threat to our relationship. In fact, I'd very much like to continue our twice weekly platonic 'dates' even though you and I are in a more public relationship now. Look, I wish I was with you, so much. I wish even more that you'd never been matched with Moriarty, but I'm not sorry that I know Lilly."

"Okay," Mycroft says with a sigh, "How is she going to feel about us having a baby, and then bonding?"

"She's going to love it. She knows about you. God, I talk about you all the time, Mycroft! She's been telling me forever that I should be with you."

Mycroft nods, and Greg's fingers dance across his back, "I want to be with you when you tell Moriarty. I don't trust him not to do something foolish."

"I have been wearing gland guards around him ever since our first meeting. I assure you that i can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, but I am a part of this, and I just really honestly want to be there for you when this all happens," Greg says seriously.

"Okay," Mycroft murmurs putting his face back into the comfort of Greg's chest.

"How do you think your parents will be taking it?" Greg asks placing a kiss on his forehead.

"They are concerned about my being with Moriarty, and I honestly think they will probably be more than a little bit relived. But they will also be scared, nervous. I don't know that anyone knows exactly what happens to someone who decides to spend their life with someone other than the betrothed tha Computer selected for them. Oh, some people have affairs to be sure, but none of us know what this is going to look like when it becomes forever. They will love you though," he says kissing Greg's chest over his clothes.

"I know that we promised that we were never going to tell anyone about our connection, but I didn't do that."

"I'm okay with you telling Lilly."

"I told my parents too. They love you."

"They've never met me," Mycroft chuckles.

"No, but they love you all the same. I want you to know if...and I'm not saying that it will....but if things go south with your parents you could always come and live at my parent's house. They've already approved it."

"We'll go to their house for dinner the day after next," Mycroft says, "I want to meet them. I've wanted to meet them...for so long."

"Oh God! I can't wait for your brother to know we're together. God, I can't believe it's been four years since the last time I saw him."

"God, I can't believe we've been together for four years."

"I can't believe that tomorrow night I'm going to sleep next to you."

"I'm far more excited about the idea of waking up next to you."

They lie together for a few more minutes before Mycroft requests, "Please scent me."

Greg moves down to try to scent his stomach. "No," Mycroft says stopping him, "I know there are going to be a lot of womb scentings coming up, and I'll need them. I'll enjoy them even, but I don't want that toe be the only kinds of scentings that I get anymore. I want you to scent me," he says tilting his head. Greg applies his nose to the gland, and breaths in longer than Mycroft would have though possible. Then he lets out a satisfied sigh. On the next intake he nuzzles Mycroft's neck, and on the outtake he peppers it with kisses. The tenderness makes Mycroft's stomach scoop. Mycroft leans forward to return the scenting. "Jesus, you smell even better to me now."

"Hormones," Greg coos against his gland, "Oh, I'm going to get you all your pregnancy cravings."

"Even if I'm craving you?" Mycroft asks.

"Oh, especially then," Greg ways sucking a hickey over Mycroft's gland, and then rolling the other man beneath him.


	4. Greg's Afternoon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to meet the parents.

"Oh!" Greg says taking a step back in surprise. "I'm sorry, perhaps I have the wrong place. I was expecting this to be the house of Mycroft Holmes." 

"It is, come on in," Mrs. Holmes says moving aside to reveal Mr. Holmes and Mycroft sitting down, "Our son just gathered us together, but we haven't the faintest idea why, but apparently you are part of this, so come on in." His mother touches a button on the wall which causes recording devices to become less observant for the benefit of family meetings. 

Sherlock bounds down the stairs and positions himself between his father and mother on the couch. 

"Sherlock, this is not a discussion for you," Mycroft says. 

"It's fine. I know that you have been sleeping with Detective Lestrade." 

Mycroft blinks at him. 

"My window faces..." Sherlock begins. 

"I don't think it would be best if people knew exactly how I kept my secrets," Mycroft cuts his little brother off as he grabs onto Greg's hand and sits on the couch opposite the rest of the family. 

"So, I assume your intention of introducing your secret man is that you would like our help to bond with him, and not with your fiancé," Mr. Holmes says. 

"That is true, but that's not all," Mycroft says nervously. His mouth feels far too dry to form the next word. 

"Oh, you’re pregnant," Sherlock says blinking. 

His parents turn to Mycroft in shock, and Mycroft's face turns bright red. 

"Mycroft Holmes," his mother scolds, "I have never known you to be cruel." 

"Cruel?" Mycroft says sounding wounded, and confused. 

"Why did you tell us?" Mrs. Holmes says. 

"It would have been a bit hard to hide after a certain point," Mycroft says. 

"Oh," his mother says with her face breaking into a real smile. "You're keeping it." 

'Yes," Mycroft says. 

"Oh! Well, then of course you had to tell us! I'm sorry. I thought...I mean if you were going to bite abort it would be more kind if you didn't let us know until after the whole thing was done, wouldn't it? But no, you're going to keep it!" 

"I know it's a bit foolish to get attached to this particular bundle of cells compared to any other bundle of cells, but..." Mycroft begins. 

"Oh no dear, I completely understand, I loved you when you were nothing more than a bundle of cells, and I am already quite attached to this bundle. All right dearie, are you going to be moving in with us...oh dear," she says furrowing her brow, "I don't think that I caught your first name." 

"Gregory, and yes, that was the plan. It would make Mycroft comfortable. We intend to bond, as soon as it is safe to do so. We know, of course, that life is going to be a bit hard for us for a while. We know it's risky to have this baby first, and we really appreciate the fact that you are willing to support us in this." 

"How do your parents feel about this?" Mrs. Holmes asks him . 

"They don't know about the baby yet, but I've told them about Mycroft, and they...like the idea," Greg says. 

"I understand why Mycroft is rejecting his fiance but...I hope you don't mind if I ask..." Mr. Holmes says. 

"I don't mind at all. It's a pretty obvious question actually. She also knows about Mycroft, and she is very okay with this. She's not interested in a romantic relationship, but honestly the two of us are going to stay good friends." 

"All right, good. I'm more than a little relieved that you're not breaking a heart by loving my son, and having one fewer person who objects to your family isn't going to hurt anything either. I know it's not official of course, what with the two of you putting off the bonding, but...welcome to the family," Mr. Holmes says grinning. 

"Thank you," Greg smiles. 

"Would you like me to tell you the story of how they met?" Sherlock asks. 

"Dear, I believe we have talked about your rude deductions, several times in fact," Mrs. Holmes warns. 

"It's all right," Mycroft says, "A few years ago Sherlock managed to get into some crime scene. A little boy drowned, I believe, and Sherlock was just convinced that there was some foul play involved...just couldn't accept that someone on the swim team could die like that. Well, long story short the cop in charge was more than a bit suspicious about what a kid was doing there. Greg was desk sergeant at the time, not his usual job, but I was quite glad he was there this night." 

Sherlock has remembered more of the story than when he was teasing his brother about it, and he tries to skip over the parts of the story that he doesn't want them to dwell on, "So then Mycroft came and got me, and they lived happily ever after the end." 

"Poor Sherlock was really scared," Greg says smiling at Sherlock, "At first he was being stubborn, and he wouldn't tell anyone his name or how we could contact his parents, that's the only reason they brought him in. After all the police force is not in the habit of booking twelve-year old boys." 

"What!" Mrs. Holmes says in alarm, "You've known each other that long? For four years?" 

Mycroft nods, and his stomach suddenly reminds him that Greg has not scented him yet today with a bout of nausea. He can't meet his mother's eyes. 

"Oh Mycroft, you should have asked for our help long ago," she says very softly, "You could have been happy all of this time. You had someone you loved, and you had to have known that I would have ripped the Earth apart so that you could have the person that you love." 

Mycroft looks up at her with a big smile, and tears coming out of his eyes, "Thank you Mom. But...we were not miserable all of this time. It was not ideal, and we are delighted by the prospect of getting to send text messages and wake up next to each other," Mycroft says shooting a grin toward Greg, "But we found our own happiness these years, we carved it out for ourselves. I do wish that we'd decided to risk it before so we could protect our baby by being bonded, but this man has made me so happy," he says giving him another grin. 

"You have too," Greg says giving him a quick peck on the cheek. 

"Finish the story of how we met," Mycroft encourages him flushing at even the chase kiss before his family. 

"Please don't," Sherlock groans leaning back. 

"He was a scared little kid, and no one could get him to talk, but Greg," Mycroft says, "And Sherlock gave them my name, and then he held this sobbing child until I got there to get him." 

"I did not cry," Sherlock says with a pout. 

"You did," Greg says, "Which is the only acceptable thing to do in the situation you were in." 

"He takes me on ride alongs still," Sherlock says, "Although he refuses to let me see any murder scenes. I don't see what the point of him making detective if it doesn't give me access to murder scenes." 

"You know, now that you are sixteen I might be able to swing something, actually," he says. 

Sherlock grins, "You know, I knew it was someone. That was the only reason that I could think of for Mycroft to be sneaking off into the woods as often as he did, but I didn't know it was you. I should have known it was you, because why would you be spending so much time with me otherwise?" 

"Oh Sherlock," Greg says, "I'd want to spend time with you either way. Even if your brother and I hadn't been involved I would have continued a relationship with you." 

Sherlock grins. 

"Now, tell us about this man of yours," he says eagerly. 

Sherlock blushes, and looks down, "I just...I just barely met John." 

"You like him though? You don't need me to pull up next to a date and give a speech about how he'd better be treating my little brother right?" Greg asks. 

Sherlock blushes even brighter red, and shakes his head. 

"All right then, good, keep me posted," he says bopping his head down on Mycroft's shoulder. He pulls away frowning, "You're wearing gland protectors? You didn't have a date with Moriarty today did you? You said I could come along the next time." 

"No, I didn't see him. I've just started wearing them all the time that I am out of the house since I've found out that I was going to be having a baby. Well, apart from when I met you yesterday." 

"God, I'm sorry you have to worry about that." 

"It's not uncommon," Mrs. Holmes said, "I did the same thing when I was pregnant with my boys. Besides the gland protectors are so much more comfortable than they were in my day. When were you thinking that you'd be moving in?" 

"Not sure," he says, "I actually brought a bag-and left it out in the car, if you'd like me to spend the night," he says to Mycroft who breaks into a wide grin. "Right, then tomorrow Mycroft will be coming to my parent's house, and we'll tell them about the baby and the fact that I'll be moving out." 

"We're glad to have you of course," Mrs. Holmes says, "And we will be delighted to help you move in when the time comes. Oh! I need to start getting all of the baby things down from the attic." 

"Not yet Mummy," Mycroft says with a sigh, "And we'll no doubt want to get some things new." 

"And a baby shower!" she exclaims. 

"Please Mummy, don't go around telling everyone until I've finished my first trimester. Now, I wouldn't mind getting out of these gland protectors, and getting a womb scenting before it is time for dinner," he says standing up, and pulling Greg after him. 

"Absolutely," Greg says. 

"Wait," Sherlock says, "I can't even tell John for months?" 

Greg grins at him, "Oh no, you can tell your man about it as soon as you want. After all, he's family now." 

Sherlock blushes more furiously. "We...he ate a bit of my cake." 

"What?" Mycroft says turning toward him in shock, "You offered him food on your first date?" 

"Nope," Greg says standing up, and putting himself between the two brothers, "You are not the sort of person who shames omegas for the speed at which they court their alphas. What Sherlock did was perfectly fine!" 

"It's not though! If he keeps moving this fast he's going to be married before he finishes school, and he needs to get his education." 

"You're having a baby, and you didn't finish your education," Sherlock says with a pout. 

"I submitted my thesis yesterday," Mycroft says, "Hopefully I am going to finish it off before the baby is born, and if not I'm still going to finish my education. You can't really compare what I am doing to what you are. I am an adult, and you are still a teenager. I've known Gregory for years, and you met John yesterday. I assure you, Gregory and I had known each other for a long time before our physical relationship advanced." 

"I didn't say our physical relationship advanced," Sherlock says looking pale, "Just because I'm advancing the relationship doesn't mean we have to get physical. 

"Oh," Mycroft says going soft, "I'm sorry, brother mine. I was jumping to conclusions, I should have trusted you that you wouldn't move too quickly. I am sorry." 

"Do..do...you think that John is going to be expecting me to be with him physically?" Sherlock asks with panic in his voice. 

"I don't know him," Mycroft says, "But if he's a good man he won't be." 

"Mycroft, you have to get me out of dating John. I can't do this!" 

"Sherlock," Mycroft says reaching toward his brother, "I'm sorry the I scared you. You now that most couples do not participate in any physical activity within the first year or so. I've been with Moriarty for years, and never touched him. The omega is in complete control of whether or not they touch one another." 

"I know, and that is what comforted me for a long time. I thought that I could just drag things out forever, but I like John. I don't want to disappoint John!" Sherlock says looking panicked. 

"Sherlock, it's okay, he'll wait for you," Mycroft says confused at the panic. 

"Waiting won't help!" Sherlock exclaims. 

"Oh," Greg says, "Sherlock, are you asexual?" 

"Computer messed up. It's not supposed to match me with someone! It's not supposed to match with someone I like!" 

"Sherlock," Greg says, "My mate, she's asexual. Okay, she told me, and I accepted it, as any decent person would. Okay, this doesn't mean you're going to lose your friendship with John. It's going to be okay, you have to talk to him." 

"I don't want him to just be my friend," Sherlock says. 

"So then you just have to negotiate that with him. Okay? It could be perfect. It could be the way that it was meant to be!" 

"I really like him," Sherlock says, "I didn't expect to like him." 

"I know," Greg says holding out his arms, and Sherlock walks into them. "That's the way that mating is supposed to happen. Okay? Trust Computer." 

"Computer was wrong about you and Mycroft," Sherlock says. 

"I don't know what Computer was thinking when it matched your brother with that monster. I don't, but I do know that Computer is right far more often than it is wrong. Let's give John a chance, eh?" Greg says rubbing Sherlock's head by way of soothing him. 

"Yeah," Sherlock says putting his head on his shoulder. 

"You'll be just fine," Greg says, "And if that alpha of yours ever tries to talk you into something that you don't want to do you let me know, because I will kick his ass." 

"Please don't hurt him," Sherlock says chuckling. 

"I'll agree to that as long as you promise you won't do anything you don't want to," Greg says seriously pulling away to look at him. 

Sherlock nods his head, and Greg gives him a friendly slap on his back, before turning. "All right, I'll go get my bag from the car, and I'll meet you up in the room I think,” Greg says to Mycroft. “ 

“Thank you, yes It's the second bedroom on the left when you are ready." Mycroft replies. 

Greg grins, and Sherlock blushes, and runs up the stairs. When his brother is out of earshot Mycroft grabs Greg's hand, "Thank you for that. You were good with him." 

Greg's mouth is thin, "You check on that boy he's with, won't you? I've told you what I know about how asexuals fair in this system, and I need to know whether or not I need to have a conversation with that man. But please don't let on what you are doing, because Sherlock is scared enough!" 

Mycroft nods, honestly hoping that Greg had really believed everything that he was saying to his younger brother. "I'll look into it, Greg." 

"Good," Greg says using the hand which is stretched between them to pull Mycroft toward him, and give him a kiss.


	5. Morning with Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft confronts Moriarty.

"Your chaperone is a bit different today," Moriary sneers, "A lot hotter than your usual fair." 

"I don't know about that," Greg says, "Mrs. Hudson's got it going on. But I'm not exactly here as a chaperone." 

"Oh, it speaks," Moriarty says with his eyebrows raised. 

Greg pulls a seat out for Mycroft, and they both sit. Moriarty hovers over them for a minute before he takes his seat pouring the tea from a communal pot for all of them. Moriarty takes a sip of his tea, but neither of the other two moves to touch it. 

"This will be the last of our fiancé dates," Mycroft says with deliberation. 

"Oh, so you've found yourself a nice bit of ass, and you think that you can be done with me now? That's not the way it works, not at all." 

"It is the way it works, I know this, because I'm telling you so. We're done, and I'm going to be with him. Forever. I'm choosing him, and even if I wasn’t, I still would not be choosing you." 

Moriarty leans forward smelling. He's the farthest he can be while still smelling, and for most people this would be the appropriate distance. Doctors or teachers might scent like this without it feeling awkward, but from this man it feels so invasive. "You're not bonded though. Oh," he says with his eyes lighting up in excitement, as he sniffs again, "Must be new, because I don't smell the little one on you yet, but you are aren't you? With child?" 

Mycroft nods. 

Moriarty makes eye contact with Greg, "And how exactly do you know that it isn't mine?" 

"Because I know him, and I know that you repulse him," Greg replies without skipping a beat, and taking Mycroft's hand under the table. 

"Yet, Computer thinks that you would be better with me than with him, and really are you in a position to question Computer? Are any of us?" 

"I am not going to let Computer define my whole life. I won't let it cause me to spend my life with someone I don't want to be with when I could be with the person, I love more than all the Earth. He's right here, and I'm not going to lose my chance with him. It's ridiculous that I've delayed the whole thing this long! There is really nothing you can do about this, and I just want you to know that you won't be seeing me anymore." 

"You can stop the dates, love," Moriarty says narrowing his eyes at him, "But that doesn't change anything. You are mine, and you will always be mine. Every time he fucks you, he's fucking my property. That baby, I'm it's landlord. You go off and play house with this alpha, but you never forget that I am really your alpha." 

"You have never been my alpha," Mycroft says standing up, "And if I were a wiser man I would have walked away from this a long time before now." He holds onto Greg's hand as the other man stands up, and Greg follows them out of the restaurant. 

Mycroft had done such a good job of looking calm and collected that Greg had bought the lie until they turn the corner and Mycroft leans against the brick wall gasping for breath. 

"Oh my God! What's wrong?" Greg asks moving toward him someone what frantically. 

Mycroft holds out his hand trying to push him away, "Space," he pleads taking long shattering breaths, and sliding down the wall. 

Greg takes a step back and gives him a bit more time. When Mycroft catches his breath Greg says, "Can you just tell me if there is anything medical going on?" 

"Nothing physical," Mycroft says. 

"Okay," Greg says letting out a sigh of relief. "You just tell me if there is something I can do to help," Greg adds very slowly. 

"It's not over," Mycroft says looking into Greg's eyes. "He's not done with us." 

"He's not done trying to hurt us, but he's not going to. I'm going to protect you," Greg promises. 

"We're going to protect each other," Mycroft says putting out his hand. Greg takes the hand and uses it to pull the other man off the ground. "And we've both got to protect the baby. Maybe...I shouldn't leave the house until after he was born." 

"Mycroft, I honestly don't think you need to do that. It would be a huge restriction on your liberty, and I just don't think we need to go that far. Besides..." Greg cuts himself off thinking that what he is about to say probably won't be the best thing. 

"You're thinking that being in the house might not be the enough to keep us safe." 

Greg flinches a bit at the truth in the words. 

"Still, I want to go home, and lock the doors right now," Mycroft says, "Thanks for not overreacting to that bit of panic, back there." 

"Has that happened to you often?" Greg asks. 

Mycroft closes his eyes for a few beats, "In the years when I knew Moriarty, but didn't know you yet...yeah it happened a lot. It's happened a few times since..." 

"Computer never brought it up?" Greg prompts, "Because it sounds like it might have been a panic attack, and there are treatments for that." 

"Computer has given me sedatives since I became a teenager." 

"That's not the medicine that would be used to treat panic attacks," Greg says. "Maybe you should request some anti-panic attack meds." 

"Computer sees everything, if it though I needed them it would give them to me. Besides, it's not really the best time to start taking new medicine," Mycroft says rubbing his belly which does not even have a bump yet. 

"Fair, but, maybe you should ask for the sedatives not to be added to your food for a while too." 

"Computer wouldn't give it to me if it was dangerous for my baby," Mycroft objects. 

Greg stops with a deep breath, "I think it's time for us to stop trusting Computer, Mycroft. Computer assigned you to a monster-the very thought of which causes you to have a panic attack. It's drugging you to take the fight with you, and not treating you with medicine that you actually need. I just want you to think for yourself instead of trust it." 

Mycroft takes his hand, "Don't think that I haven't thought of that. Haven't considered that, but it's not that simple is it? Computer controls all," Mycroft says looking to the nearest camera, "Hollowed be it's name." 

Greg's heart grows cold. He had not really considered 

"I'm rebelling against Computer. I'm doing it, because I love you, and because I love our child, but I am not going to push my luck any further than I have to. You're right about the sedative. I'll frame it in defense of my child, but..." he smiles sadly, "Computer doesn't make mistakes." 

Mycroft in the middle of the woods is different from the Mycroft in the middle of the city, and Greg can't help but wonder if he's really going to be loving Mycroft in the open now. 

"Of course," he smiles, "Hallowed by the name of the all-knowing computer." There is a bit of a bite to the words, and a tiny twitch in Mycroft's mouth shows that he understands the little bit of snark which isn't in his voice but is implied. 

Greg links hands with him, and they walk down the alley hand in hand so that they can hail a cab to go home.


	6. John's Dinner

"Mrs. Hudson, you are not strictly necessary in this conversation," Sherlock says dismissively. 

"Oy! Don't talk to her that way!" John says alarmed. 

"It's quite all right, I'm used to his sharp tongue. I am here to protect that sharp tongue though, dear one, and I'm not about to let you go away, and talk dirty before you are ready for it. You are quite young." 

"Mrs. Hudson, my brother and the father of his child are encouraging me to have this conversation, and I can't bear to have it before you. Please, a bit of privacy." 

"All right dear, but you know I'll be talking to your brother later, and if you're not being honest you'll be hearing it from him. You keep in eyesight though." 

"Thank you," Sherlock says breathing a sigh of relief as she moves to a distant table. 

"Your brother's having a baby?" John asks trying to get the conversation started after Sherlock has sat in an awkward amount of silence. 

"Yeah, but not with his fiance," Sherlock says. Then it occurs to him that this might be the right way to enter the conversation, "The sire of his baby is an alpha who is engaged to another person. She's asexual, do you know what that is?" 

John shakes his head. 

"It means she isn't interested in sex at all. Like...some people might only be attracted to omegas or alphas, or women or men. Well, some people aren't attracted to anyone." 

"Oh," John says. He looks down, "Why would Computer match people like that with someone? It does a good job with alphas who like other alphas and what not, so why would they match someone who doesn't like anyone with anyone?" 

"Sometimes they don't, but it's a bit more complicated than all of that," Sherlock says. "Lestrade's fiance is rather glad to have a friendship with him, and some asexuals, they want romance." 

"Yeah?" John says looking at him hopefully. 

"It depends on the individual, but..." 

"Let's just drop the hypothetical, and talk about you," John says directly. 

Sherlock breathes a sigh of relief about being understood without having to say the words directly, "I am interested in romance. I didn't think I was until you," John smiles, "The ideas of kissing, holding hands, holding you...this is all delightful. The idea of doing other things...of you being there when I am in my heats...it horrifies me. I understand that for most people this is very important, it's critical. It's the whole point of a relationship." 

"It's not the point of a relationship. The point of a relationship is having someone who cares about you, and you care about, and spending as much time with that person as you can.." 

"It is, Sherlock, and the fact is, even though I am quite young I am absolutely certain that I am never going to want to have sex. And if knowing this means you're not willing to offer me romance, than..." 

"No," John says shaking his head, "It's not a deal breaker for me. You matter to me, Sherlock, and..." 

"No, don't say it like it's easy," Sherlock says, "When I say never I mean never. We will have to figure out somewhere else for you to be when I'm in heat, because I don't want to worry about you losing your mind, and don't something I don't want." 

John flushes, "I would never do that to you. But I am willing to stay at a separate place if it you feel more comfortable." 

"I don't want you to say yes just because you think that is what I want you to say. Take your time, and give me an answer when you are sure." 

"If you want me to trust you when you say that you don't want to have sex, than you should trust me when I say I'm okay with the idea of being in a sexless marriage. Honestly, I couldn't go without cuddling, I don't think, but this is...sort of a relief. I am an omegist, and I don't like the way that most omegas I treated in marriage. Sex shouldn't be used to control people, and we shouldn't pretend people are slaves to their body." 

"I want you to think about it more, and then we'll talk again, because I can't stand the idea of you coming to regret our relationship," Sherlock says. "I thought...I would be a disappointment to you." 

"Never," John says. 

"There is another thing that I want you to consider," Sherlock says, "You know....it's not unheard of for people to...outofbond," he mutters the last phrase as if it were a swear word. 

"You're suggesting we get married, and I sleep with other people." 

"I can live with that." 

"I don't want you to be able to just live with our marriage, Sherlock, I want it to be the best case scenario for you." 

"My best case scenario is being married to you," Sherlock says smiling. He was desperately to reach out and touch John's hand, but physical touch is forbidden at this stage in their relationship. 

"Sherlock, sex is not important enough to me to justify hurting you." 

"It wouldn't hurt me as much as it would hurt most people." 

"Hurting you at all is completely unacceptable. I'm really okay with this." 

"But you have to promise you'll talk to me if this changes. We can renegotiate, but I won't be able to stand you changing things without renegotiating." 

"More than fair," John says. 

"Okay," Sherlock says grinning, "I brought you something if you wanted it." 

"You're kidding," John chuckles. 

"If it's too soon I can keep it." 

"Give it over," John says reaching out. 

Sherlock takes a book out of his bag, and hands it over. Mrs. Hudson rushes from the other side of the restaurant in order to bat the book out of their hand. 

"It's your second date! There is no way you've reached a tentative contract on mutual goals! You think that intellectual intimacy is nothing, but it's not! It's everything, and you're not ready for it yet!" 

"Mrs. Hudson, I assure you we have come an agreement," John says, "And I think if you knew the whole of it you'd be less alarmed about us moving too quickly." 

"I don't think you understand how serious it is if you dive in the physical parts of your relationship to quickly." 

Sherlock blushes furiously, "What if we are not rushing toward a physical relationship," he says unable to meet her eyes. 

"Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson says in a pitying tone. 

"We told that we had discussed this," John says firmly, "And you are not allowed to question his ability to make these decision. He and I figured out our future, and we're not actually asking for comments on it. Thanks." 

Mrs. Hudson blinks, "Well all right then. If you are going into this with your eyes wide open. It's the second date, and you are gong on to the second state of intimacy. I'm warning you, you might want to dwell here for a while. Intellectual intimacy is the core on which your relationship will be built. You might be right about Sherlock being able to handle the planning better than I thought, but emotional intimacy will be a hard one for him, and you guys should spend some time to build this up." 

"We will," John promises. 

Mrs. Hudson bends down a bit to put her face before Sherlock who still won't look her in the eye, "I'm sorry if I made you feel shame. If you've come up with a life you love with this man, than you won it boy. Because you've got to get the point where you're not going to try to hide, and live someone else's version of your life. I want you to be yourself, and to be proud of who you are." 

Sherlock meets her eyes, "I'm asexual." 

"Good for you then," Mrs. Hudson says. 

"But I'm not going to tell everyone that. They don't need to know what happens or doesn't happen in our bed," Sherlock says. 

"Quite right, but you ought to be able to tell anyone you want to tell," she says grinning at him. 

"All the important people know now," he says. 

"You're just fine, Sherlock," she says patting him on the back. Then he grins at John, "And Computer knew what it was doing when it picked you for our Sherlock." 

"I think I'm pretty lucky Computer picked him for me." 

Mrs. Hudson returns to her distant table, and John looks at the book in his hand. "It's not in English is it?" 

"Very clever, John," Sherlock says in sarcasm. 

"You're supposed to give me your favorite book, so that I can learn about you. I can't learn about you when I don't even know what language it's in." 

"You can't ask me to change my favorite book, John, be reasonable," Sherlock says. 

John chuckles. "All right then, translate the title." 

"Oh, what sort of fun would that be? Sherlock says. "You have any politics to speak of?" 

"I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing, you?" 

"Oh, I generally go in for the opposite of whatever my brother thinks," John says. 

"I'd like to meet your brother, and his mate," John says. 

Sherlock shakes his head ever so slight, "It's not his mate. I told you." 

"I don't understand how he could do that." 

"His mate...he's a monster, and it never would have worked for him to be with him. He's been with Greg secretly, for a long time. The baby was an accident, I think," Sherlock says flushing again, "But they might never have decided to live together if it weren't for that." 

"But they aren't going to bond?" John asks in surprise. 

Sherlock shakes his head. 

"Labor would be easier for him if he did." 

"Yes, but it would be labor with a different infant. I personally think it's a game of chance either way, but they seem rather attached to this particular zygote." 

"Don't talk about it like that," John scolds looking concerned. "What about us, and...bonding. I'd rather not have people wonder why I never got mated years and years after people normally did such things." 

"Not to mention, the fact that heats are far more mild when you are bonded. Also...I want to live with you, and you don't seem to be the kind of person who would live with someone out of a proper bonding." 

"I'm really not." 

"Besides, the...emotional link caused by bonding, it's something I would enjoy." 

"Do you think your brother is going to bond with his....I don't quite no what to call him since he isn't a mate?" 

"I don't know it there is a term either, but they will be bonding after the baby is born." 

"I suppose that's all right then," John says. 

Sherlock smiles sadly at him, "You social views are certainly more conservative than mine." 

"I'm sorry," John says blushing. 

"Oh no, it's not the sort of thing you need to be sorry about! It's just a fact," Sherlock says, "I personally think that the rules were made up to make everyone miserable, but that's just me." 

John chuckles, "My favorite book is the Giving Tree." 

"No, that's all wrong. A story about giving everything you have for someone else when they don't care enough to protect you back? That's not the book for you? That's a book for careless people. You're the sort of person who learns how to set limits for himself and doesn't let other people walk all over them. I'm sorry, John, but you are just going to have to pick another book." 

"I'm sorry, you want me to pick another favorite book when I've chosen one you've actually read, but I can't tell you to pick another despite the fact that your choice is in a language I can't read?" 

"Yes, the one you chose was completely inadequate," Sherlock says with a deadpan face. 

John chuckles, "Well, maybe you'll have to a pick a new book for me. Something in English mind." 

"Fine, and then you can select one for me to read," Sherlock says, "I'm sure I'll finish whatever you select for me first." 

"Not if I picked a bigger book." 

"Doubtful, my reading speed is quite fast," Sherlock says with a loft air. 

"Drink your tea madman," John says sipping his. 

A text message comes in, and Sherlock's face breaks into a half grin as he reads it. "Fancy a crime scene?" Sherlock asks.


	7. Bond Mark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft faces some ill effects of his pregnancy out of bond.

The shop keeper takes a long sniff at Mycroft. Mycroft is still not used to this sort of thing even at a bit more than five and a half months pregnant. Usually his scent blockers and baggy clothing are still able to hide his condition. 

"You don't smell bonded." 

"I'm not sure how that's information you need to sell me milk," Mycroft says plopping his money down on the counter. 

"It isn't right, for you you to be carrying your little one inside of you without being properly bonded. That pup deserves a sire." 

"He's got one actually, thank you for the moral guidance, and the milk," Mycroft says taking the milk, and abandoning his change as the lest of his worries. He marches out of the store, and finds his way into the nearest alley for one of his calm downs to prevent a panic attack. He hasn't had to go through this particular ritual since the last time he saw Moriary. He hates feeling week as he gasps for breath in an alleyway. 

Suddenly he hears a voice which he was beginning to hope he was never going to hear again. He sits up. 

"Oh, darling, I thought you only started to pant like that for me," Moriarty coos. 

Mycroft pulls away from the wall, and tries to push past the other man against the wall. Mycroft feels a prick in his arm, and when he looks down to see a needle in his arm. 

"Jesus, what did you give me?" Mycroft says, "Will it hurt the baby?" 

"No, no, of course not, I have different way to get rid of that little problem." 

Mycroft's muscles aren't working, and he feels himself going down. Moriarty moves forward to loosen Mycroft's tie in a possessive way. He unbuttons the shirt in a way that is a painful mimicking of sensual. 

"I practiced on these things, but none of them were exactly like this," He says cocking his hand. 

"Handmade, with a lock," Mycroft snorts. 

"Oh," Moriarty says sounding thrilled, "I do like a challenge." 

"It might just be more of a challenge than you can handle. How long exactly does this stuff last?" 

"Whatever would give you the impression that it was in any way temporary?" Moriarty coos. He steps forward, well into Mycroft's space to nibble at an ear lobe, and then whispers, "I told you, you were mine." 

"I don't belong to anyone," Mycroft says. 

"Oh, you're an omegaist, that's darling. That's something I'll fix you of now that you're mine." He gives the bite protector a mock bite, and Mycroft attempts to struggle, but no part of his body is willing to move right now. 

He thinks of Greg, and his baby, and his little brother, and tries to convince his mind that all of those people are real, and what is happening to him is not. 

-0- 

Greg rushes past the nurse's station only to get two of them standing up, and running after him. "Sir!" one of them exclaims. 

"My mate!" Greg says pointing, "Was brought in with a forced miscarriage." 

She clearly knows who he is talking about, but still asks, "Name?" 

"Holmes, Mycroft Holmes is his name." 

"Right this way Mr. Holmes." 

Greg doesn't correct them, at some point he might need to let someone know that he's never bitten Mycroft, but that's not critical right now. The door opens to Mycroft with both of his hands on his stomach looking far more normal than he thought. 

"Jesus, are you alright? Is the baby okay? Who did this to you?" 

Mycroft gives him an incredulous look, "I'm in preterm labor." 

"What happened? There were no details on the phone. Someone just said you were found bleeding in the street." 

"Most of the blood is from the labor," Mycroft says. 

"That's not comforting," Greg says. 

Mycroft pats the hospital bed. Hospital beds in maturity wings are always made for two, because it would have been abusive to separate an omega in labor from his/her alpha. Greg sits down, but then pulls away surprised by the smell. 

"I'm sorry," Mycroft says sobbing. 

"No, don't be sorry," Greg says pulling his mate toward him, "I should have figured that out, and not flinched, why else would you be in labor?" 

"I was wearing a gland protector," Mycroft says reaching his hand up to touch the bandages on his neck. 

"I know this is not your fault, it's the fault of the monster," Greg says alarmed at the blood through the bandages. The bastard hadn't even licked the bond bit to heal it. "Can I lick this for you?" Greg asks. 

"You know he...raped me to, right?" 

"God why would you even be worried that I would be angry, because of what he did to you?" Greg says kissing his forehead, "Can I stop that blood for you?" 

"You could bite over his bite mark," Mycroft sobs. 

"Yes, of course honey. But nor yet." 

"It's too late, the baby is being born, even if it isn't ready." 

"I know, but a bite bond is trauma, and birth is trauma, and that's all the trauma you body is getting today." 

"Your bite wouldn't be trauma," Mycroft cries. 

"Physically it would, I'm not doing it today, we can talk about it in a few days," Greg says giving him another kiss on the neck before removing the bandage and slowly licking the wound. Mycroft goes tense in the middle of the action and Greg stops licking him, and just holds him for a bit, "It's okay," he soothes. 

"I want the baby to stay safe inside of me," Mycroft complains. 

"I know, but we are going to keep it safe outside of out. Okay? And we are going to hold them.." 

"There is a 20% chance it will die," Mycroft says. 

Greg holds him tighter, but doesn't respond. 

The contraction ends, and Greg goes back to licking the bond bit until the bleeding stops, he then puts Mycroft's nose close to his scent gland. 

The door opens, "Oh! I'm sorry, didn't mean to be interrupting. I hadn't realized that Greg had arrived quite yet," Mrs. Holmes says. 

"Just a scenting," Greg says none the less pulling away from his lover ever so slightly. Mycroft grabs him before he is able to slip too far away. 

"Has Greg managed to talk you into pressing charges?" his mother asks. 

"I"m sorry, what? You're not planning on pressing charges?" Greg says blinking at the other man in shock. 

"I think it would be safer not to," Mycroft says looking down. 

"He threatened you. He fucking bit you, put our child at risk, and then just because that wasn't enough he threatened you!" 

"He didn't," Mycroft says, "But he didn't need to. What he did...it was in full view of a camera, but it wasn't the camera that called for help. It was a little old woman who barely know how to work her screen. The computer knows what happened, and it hasn't filed anything legally, I am left to assume that the computer doesn't think that anything should be done about it." 

Greg shakes his head, and then looks up at the camera in the corner of the room, "Cursed be Computer hater of the man I love." 

"Shut up!" Mycroft says clasping his hand over his lover's mouth, "You are about to be a father, you can't be being suicidal like that! He apologizes!" Mycroft yells at camera. 

"I don't. That thing has been harming you since you were a child, and you deserve better!" 

Mycroft doubles over with another contraction, and he thrusts his nose into the cruck of his mate's neck for the scenting. 

"Honey, it doesn't...turn your stomach to do that?" Greg asks softly. 

"No, The labor is overwhelming whatever scent aversion is right now. I'm sorry I know this can't be pleasant for you," Mycroft says pulling away. 

Greg nuzzles him back into his shoulder, "No way. Even if I couldn't bare the scent of it I would not be abandoning you in labor, and it's not that bad, honestly. How close are you?" 

"Still more than five minutes apart. It will be a while-you can turn on the TV if you want," he says waving his hand. 

"I'm not asking, because I'm bored," Greg laughs, "You want a womb scenting honey?" 

"It wouldn't be very useful right now, would it? A womb scenting calms things down, and this baby needs to be excited now. Our baby is going to need all the strength that it can muster." 

"It's your baby, Mycroft, it's going to be strong," Greg says putting his hand on his partner's stomach. 

"I'm bonded to someone else," Mycroft says staring at the hand in surprise. 

"It doesn't count Mycroft. Forced bondings are not real bondings. Not in the eyes of the law, and certainly not in the laws of society." 

"Biologically," Mycroft says. 

"It doesn't matter, he doesn't matter. We do," Greg says "Our family does." 

"He said he owned me," Mycroft says. 

"Well, he's wrong. You own yourself, Mycroft Holmes." 

"Then I give myself to you, Greg." 

"Oh no, I'm not about to take you," Greg says laughing a bit when Mycroft's face looks stricken, "No, Mycroft I don't want a fainting omega, or a servant. I want someone strong. I want a partner, just like you've always been to me. I want you, but I don't want to own you." 

Mycroft flinches again pulling Greg in for a pain relieving scent. 

"That one was much closer together, dear," his mother points out. 

-0- 

"It's a girl," the doctor says, handing the screaming baby over to her dame. 

"Thank God," Mycroft says grinning at the girl. 

"I had no idea that you cared that much about the gender of our baby," Greg says ever so slightly offended. 

"I didn't, until it affected chances of survival, premature females do better," he says. The baby lets out a shaky cry, "That's it baby," he smiles, "Use those lungs that you've got." 

"Well, than I sure as hell hope she's going to be an omega, because i know they are stronger than the rest of us," Greg says. 

"We won't know her secondary gender for years, but I couldn't agree with you more," Mycroft says grinning at his partner. He starts to lift the baby up to his scent gland, and then looks at Greg with tears in his eyes, "I smell wrong. I don't want her to smell me like this. But she needs to bond." 

"Give her here, honey, soon you are going to smell half like me anyway," Greg offers. 

Most omegas would not allow anyone else to have first scenting of a newborn pup, but Mycroft isn't most omegas. Greg holds the newborns face to his shoulder and starts to cry. 

"You haven't even smelt her yet," Mycroft points out. 

"God it's...too much almost!" Greg exclaims, but he nuzzles her. The scent changes suddenly from a fearful new birth scent to one of home and safety and family. Greg meets his partner's eyes, "I know you don't want her to scent you like this, but honey... you can't give his up." 

Mycroft nods and takes the baby back. He starts crying long before he's got the baby nestled in. Greg misses his daughter, and leans over the pair of them. 

Mycroft pulls away ever so slightly, "The smell has got to be bothering you. How can you stand to be this close to me?" 

"You might not smell like you love, but you still are you. You'll never stop being you to me," Greg says fondly. 

"I'll feel better when I am myself again." 

"Ah, but you're never going to be yourself again, not really. You're going to smell half like me." 

"And then I will be more profoundly myself than I have been at any other time in my life!" Mycroft says. 

"Ew!" Sherlock exclaims from the hallway, "Why did you drag me in here Mummy when you knew they were going to be behaving like that?" 

"Oh Sherlock drawing, a little family cuddle is nothing to be alarmed about. You'll be engaging in that sort of thing yourself before you know it." 

"Or not," Greg says with a smile, "Whatever you feel most comfortable with really." 

Sherlock blushes a bit, but smiles gratefully at the man. 

"Come meet your niece," Mycroft says holding her ever so slightly up. 

"Not until she's been hosed down," Sherlock says with a turn of his nose. 

Mycroft chuckles, "I do suppose it's about time for them to wash her off though. Greg you'd better sit up so you can help with the cutting of the cord." 

Sherlock's face turns even more pale than normal, and he exits the room followed by his parents.


	8. Omega Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft gives birth.

Sherlock is almost shaking when he calls John in the waiting room. He hands him a flower which represents the staring to their romantic relationship. As soon as John takes it with a grin Sherlock collapses into his arms. John holds him for a long time before Sherlock says, "Promise me that I will never have labor." 

"We already decided that. What's this all about?" John asks. 

"My brother just had a baby, and I do not like them when they are fresh. There is a lot of blood. Not interesting blood like from a murder but gross blood like from your brother's vaginanus. I do not want to have a baby coming out of me, and I do not want to hold it. If that makes me a bad omega I don't care!" 

"Hey, no one is going to think you are a bad omega because when you meet a kid for the first time you want it to already have the blood washed off of it! Okay, that ws your last time in a delivery room, and you don't have to go back in there unless you want to. 

Sherlock breaths out a sigh of relief, "Computer made the right choice when it chose us for each other." 

"I know," John says thinking this saying as the same soft sweetness that it does when other people say it. 

"In the same way that we were meant to be together my brother was meant to be with Greg, bending over him and telling him how nice he smelled when he most have reeked of another bite mark." 

"Hold it, who bite your brother?" John says in alarm, "Damn it! I thought it was way too early for the baby to be here. Who bit him?" 

"The person Computer thinks he should be with! It's really quite outrageous!" 

"Sherlock, it wasn't...I know your brother wasn't that far along in courting, so we are talking about an involuntary bit aren't we?" 

"Yes!" Sherlock exclaims. "Of course! My brother would never let that monster do this to him if he had a choice in the matter." 

"He's charged then? In jail?" John asks. 

"No," Sherlock says, "My brother thinks the computer should have seen him, and if it didn't than it's not going to care even if he did see him." 

"Sherlock, your brother has to do something about this. I can't...I won't live in a world where people can be forced into bonds against their will and no one does anything." 

"He might tell people and no one will do anything anyway." 

"I'll do something," John says fiercely. 

Sherlock blinks, confused by the idea that a person could do something to stand up against Computer. He feels like he should warn John off. Tell him that something horrible was going to happen to him if he tried, but there is really no evidence for that. No one has ever tried to defy the computer, so who is to say that everything wouldn't go perfectly fine for anyone who tried? "I'll go tell him that we'd both fight for him if it came down to that, and we'll see if that does anything to change his mind," Sherlock says. 

"Thank you," John says sounding sincerely grateful. 

Sherlock takes a few steps back to his brother's room, but pauses, "Not now though...there are things going on in there." 

John chuckles, "Seriously is the baby all right? It's got to be pretty early right?" 

"Mummy said that the chances are better since it's a girl, and she cried a lot, which must mean her lungs are developed." 

"Yeah, it's a good sign, how is your brother. That must have horrible. A bond mark is supposed to be one of the most sacred things that can happen to you, and to have it happen as part of a violation!" 

"I know," Sherlock says seriously. "And..." he pauses wondering if perhaps this is the sort of something that he should not share, "That wasn't all the bad things that happened to Mycroft." 

"I sort of figured so. It's not often where you have a forced bonding without the alpha going and forcing himself in other ways," John says. 

-0- 

"Don't be ridiculous Sherlock, you can walk into your own brother's room," Mummy says with her hands on her hips. 

"No Mummy," Sherlock says looking alarmed. "Please can you just go in there, and check to see that it is all clear before we do? Neither of us needs to see anything by accident!" 

His mother sighs, and pokes her head in the door, "Sherlock and his mate want to know if you are all decent?" 

"Yes," Mycroft calls, "I'll all put away from her feeding, and it's quite safe for you to look." 

"I didn't need to know that!" Sherlock explains in horror. 

"Well brother mine, just because you barely eat, doesn't mean that we want your niece to follow in your footsteps," Mycroft says with a smile. 

"Oh!" John says grinning at the baby. He looks at Mycroft with a hopeful look on his face, "Would it be okay if I held her? I promise not to actually scent her." 

"Rubbish," Mycroft says, "You're welcome to scent her. My brother and you have clearly decided that you are a member of your family, and I'm in no position to argue that you aren't a part of my family until the bonding." 

"Thank you," John says picking up the child grinning as he lifts her to his neck. He gasps as he smells the baby for the first time, and then nuzzles her. Sherlock huffs. "Oy! You'll understand when it is your turn to hold her." 

Sherlock takes a startled step back, and John rolls his eyes. He steps toward Sherlock, and carefully puts the baby in his arms, supporting her in case Sherlock were to let go of her at any second. Sherlock starts to cry, and looks first to John, and then to his brother with a startled terrified look. 

"It's okay, to feel emotions," John tells him. 

"It's just the scent, and the hormones that it activates! It has nothing to do with actual emotions!" Sherlock objects. 

"You love that baby, and that's okay," John says. 

"I didn't mean to love her until she was a bit older," Sherlock whispers, "In case." 

"Oh, this baby is going to live," John says with confidence. "You ready to give her back to Papa?" he asks seeing that Sherlock is overwhelmed. 

"Yeah," Sherlock nods. Sherlock takes in his brother's neck, "I hadn't noticed under the plaster, but he didn't make a very clean bite on you did he?" 

"It's all right, Greg will get it cleaned up fro me later," Mycroft says smiling at his mate. 

"Did it hurt?" Sherlock asks. 

"Yeah, it did a bit. But it doesn't normally. From what I understand," Mycroft says. 

Sherlock glances at John nervously. 

"I won't hurt you Sherlock, when it comes time to bite you, and if you are really nervous about it than I don't have to bite you at all." 

"Sherlock!" John scolds. 

"Not good?" He asks. 

"No, it's a valid question. No, I don't feel any of the emotional bits. A lot of fear emotions that I had when he bit me might have something to do with it, and the fact that I didn't have an emotional connection to him before he bit me might have had something to do with it." 

Greg looks more than a little bit relieved. 

"Mycroft, Sherlock says that Moriarty has been charged for this," John says swallowing slowly in fear. 

"Computer is aware," Mycroft says. 

"Mycroft, we'll all fight for you. No matter who you have to fight," John says looking at the camera in the room. 

Mycroft looks at the baby who is still in John's arm. "I think I've got enough of a fight before me right now. This baby was brought into the world three and a half months before she should have been. My body attempted to bond abort this baby, tried to reject her. There were drugs in my body in the hours before she was born. She is tiny and small, and it is my job to protect her. It is not my job to begin a fight that can't win." 

John takes a step forward, "Mycroft, you don't seem to understand that she's the reason that we are fighting. I don't want her to grow up in a world where woman, and omegas don't have control over their bodies. No one gets to touch that girl unless she wants it, and in order to make that true I've got to make sure that no one gets to touch you unless you are okay with it." 

Mycroft sighs, and looks at his husband, "All right, I'll file." 

"Okay, but I'm not going to be the filling out your paperwork," Greg says. 

"I don't want to have to go through it more than once, and you've got to know what happened," Mycroft says. 

"I will be there, but not as professional, as your partner," Greg says, "I'll go make the call, and get someone up here then," giving Mycroft a a half smile before walking out of the room. 

"It's good that thing, you did there," Sherlock says. 

Mycroft sits up in his bed, "Sherlock, you have to promise me that if something happens to Greg and me you're going to help Mummy and Father with the baby. They are good parents they are, but they aren't clever like we are, and she's going to need someone who understands her Sherlock, someone like us." 

"Mycroft, you can't seriously believe that Computer is going to kill you," Sherlock says none the less looking concerned about it. 

"Maybe, and it could be Moriarty. Sherlock, he," Mycroft closes his eyes, "He seemed so confident. He did it right in front of a camera, and he didn't seemed to worry at all that I knew what was going on. I thought...I thought he was going to kill me." 

Sherlock slides into the bed next to his brother, and puts an arm around his brother. The baby fusses, by being jostled around by the edition of her uncle, and Sherlock pulls away. 

"For crying out loud, you need to stop being alarmed by a little baby!" 

"She's so little, I feel like i might hurt her just by breathing on her," Sherlock admits. 

"Babies are resilient. She has already survived a murder attempt, I think she can survive her uncle." 

"Don't leave her to me," Sherlock says mesmerized by the tiny form before him. "I mean," he says stammering, "Of course you are going to make it, and this conversation is nothing more than academic, but none the less." 

"All right, it's probably not fair to ask such a thing of a sixteen year old. How about this, you and John, you are godparents right? But the job doesn't really start until you turn twenty-one. If I die before that our parents will be in charge of her, and you can just keep playing the role of a helpful godparent, but at that age you are in charge of her. Okay?" 

"Okay," John says. 

Sherlock considers the baby for a minute before looking up into his brother's eyes. "Okay, as long as you promise to try really hard not to die." 

"It's a deal," Mycroft says breaking into a grin. 

-0- 

When Greg returns to the room with his colleague with him Sherlock slips out of his spot yielding it to his future brother in law. "John, can you take her. I know I'm being silly. She's too young to understand that there is anything that I am about to say, but I still don't think that she should be here for this." 

John nods, "She might not understand what is being said, but she will probably recognize the change in your scent. Come along, Sherlock, I'm sure he doesn't want you here for this." Sherlock stands there looking like he wants to run out of the room, but clearly waiting to be dismissed by his brother. 

"Thank you Sherlock, but yes," Mycroft says. 

Greg wraps an arm around his mate, and pulls him close. 

"Let's start with who did this to you," the man says. 

"It was my betrothed," Mycroft admits. The cop looks nervously at Greg, and then Mycroft continues, "I never felt quite safe or comfortable around him. Not since the first time that I met when I was sixteen years old. I dated him for many years, because that is the expected thing, that is what you do. But I never liked him, and more than once he made me feel uncomfortable, and I knew that I could never stand to have him near me. I loved Gregory," Mycroft says snuggling into the other man's side. 

"Maternity ward? Whose baby is it then?" the cop says. 

"Greg's," Mycroft says. "When I fell pregnant I stopped seeing my fiance, and Greg and I were living together. I was...happier than I've ever been. But I didn't feel safe. I didn't feel safe, because Moriarty told me that I wasn't safe. I left a grocery store, and was walking through an alley when he attracted me. I tried to get past him, back into the street, but he drugged me with a chemical that temporarily paralyzed me. I was wearing a neck protector, but he took it off, and bite me anyway. Then he raped me." 

"What were you wearing?" The cop asks still looking down at his notebook. 

"I thought he was quite clear," Greg says in an annoyed tone of voice, "a neck protector which made it pretty damned clear that he didn't want to be bitten." 

"A three piece suit," Mycroft says quite annoyed at his fiance for being so dramatic about this. He'd fully expected that question to be part of his report.. 

"Right, and why exactly did you decide not to bond when you fell pregnant," the cop says. 

"I don't see what the fuck that has to do with anything!" Greg says his voice blistering in annoyance. 

"Greg, you wanted me to report this is what reporting something like this is like," Mycroft says starting at him in announce. 

"It shouldn't be." 

"Look, I agree with you, but it is what it's going to be lie. If you hate it so much you are welcome to leave." 

"I'm not leaving." 

"Admirable. It's unfortunate that you weren't with the dame of your put on the day of the incident," the cop says. 

Greg's scent is pure anger, but he doesn't say another word for the rest of Mycroft's report. 

Then the most difficult and judgy question of them all comes out of the cop's mouth, "Do you have any reason why this happened in full view of cameras attached to the all-knowing, all-seeing, and all-powerful computer, and yet it did not ask for help?" 

"No," Mycroft says, "I don't know why an old woman had to be traumatized by seeing me bleeding and barely conscious when Computer could have chosen to save me and her from that. I don't know why Computer chooses to allow some pain when it claims not to allow any, and I certainly don't know why it put my child at risk. But I do know that Computer did." 

The cop shows no expression as he finishes writing his notebook, "I think we have all that we need right now. We'll let you know if we find anything." 

Mycroft nods, and holds his fierce and bold expression for a few seconds until the cop is out of the room. 

"Bastard," Greg mutters. 

Mycroft buries his head in the other man's chest and scents him. 

"You did the right thing anyway," Greg says. "Even if you don't get justice, I am proud of you for speaking up. It was the right thing to do." 

"What if I don't get justice, and our daughter looses a parent. Will it still have been the right thing?" Mycroft asks. 

Greg flinches ever so slightly at these words, but he kisses Mycroft's forehead, "I'm not going to let that happen."


	9. Battle Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A plan is hatched. It's nuts.

"Mycroft," Greg says with a long slow sigh, "Don't think that I haven't noticed that you haven't left the house since you came home from the hospital." 

"It's a new baby bubble it's a thing," Mycroft replies while feeding his daughter. 

"It's a reaction to trauma, and it's competently understandable, but we've got to spend some time to work through this," Greg says very softly. 

"It's only been a couple of days," Mycroft says. 

"All right, then you give me the day that you are going to leave this house, and know that whatever day you give me I am going to hold you to it." 

Mycroft sighs, "I used to think that my skill at fighting and my shoulder pads would be enough to protect me." 

"You are afraid of Moriarty?" Greg says laying down next to his family, "Honestly, I'd assumed that Computer was the issue," he whispers. 

Mycroft glances at the video monitor in the wall. 

"We've established that it doesn't hear everything," Greg says. 

"I'm not so sure about that. I know the computer has...manipulated me. But I've never heard about it doing that to other people." 

"Probably because when they try they are treated like you were back at the hospital when you tried to report it." 

"That's what I thought at first, and honestly that could still be the case, but...I feel like it's just as likely that Moriarty found a way to hack Computer. Granted, saying that is only slightly less blasphemous that accusing Computer of actual evil, but Moriarty is terrifying, and what with Hawken's razor you should always choose the explication which is the simplest. One entity which wishes me harm is so much simpler than two." 

"Okay, and if we go tell this to the police is it going to do any good?" Greg says. 

"I just did tell it to the police," he says leaning against his own policeman, "Not all of them are bad, but I don't think that going down to the station, and making a traditional report is a thing we should do. I've been planning, because you are right I can't stay in the house forever. But I am also not going to leave before I'm ready." 

"Okay, what do you need from me?" Greg asks. 

"I need you to start with a bite. I have felt wrong, and violated and abused every second since he laid his teeth on me, and I just can't do it anymore." 

"Okay," Greg says soothing him. "Is the little one done eating?" 

"We've really got to name her," Mycroft says. 

"I know, it's only we thought we had more time, and now...well, we do have quite a lot to be dealing with just now don't we?" 

Mycroft nods laying the baby down in a bassinet next to their bed and pulling the pajama away from his neck flinching. 

"It shouldn't hurt you," Greg says. 

"I know, and I don't really think it will. Only it did last time, and my body doesn't quite believe that it's not going to this time." 

Greg pushes him into the sitting position, and nudges up behind them. He licks it first and when Mycroft shutters Greg stops. "Pleasure not dread," Mycroft says, "Although I would prefer that you got on with it." 

"I'm sorry," Greg says done with the delay, and sinking his teeth into Mycroft's body. The bite is wider than he would have gone if left to his own devices in order to do away with all the jagged edges left by Moralities teeth. He does it lightly, properly drawing out the bonding fluid without shedding a drop of blood. He holds his mouth over the wound for a long second moving his teeth ever so slightly to make the wound even and clear. Then he removes the teeth, and replaces it with his tongue which he licks far more completely than necessary. 

"I hope I didn't hurt you to much," Greg says turning Mycroft to face him. 

"It didn't hurt," Mycroft says, "In fact, we've got a bit of a situation," he says glancing down at his pants. 

"Oh!" Greg says alarmed, "I don't know if...you just had a baby." 

"Oh God, you're not going anywhere close to that part of me," he says, "But.." he glances down again. 

"Okay, how do you want this?" Greg asks licking his lips. 

"Yeah that will do," Mycroft says with a cheeky grin as his lover moves down his body, 

-0- 

"Her name is Ava," Greg says holding his baby. 

"Yes," Mycroft says smiling at his husband and daughter, "I've got to tell you something about the plan I have, because I know for a fact you're not going to like it." 

Greg raises his eyebrows. 

"I have to pretend I am choosing Moriarty." 

"What?" Greg says in furry. 

"If he's hacked Computer I need access either to his sync disk or his home computer." 

"So his bedroom, you need to get into his bedroom, and link to his offline home computer?" Greg says, "You want me to send you into the bedroom of the person who rapped you?' 

"I can't live my life in fear of him. I have to end this threat." 

"But there has to be a way to end this threat that doesn't involve you literally handing yourself over to that monster," Greg begs. 

"I've thought very hard, and I can't think of another way to do this. I'm not being conceded when I say that I assume that means there is no solution," Mycroft says. 

"What if he hurts you again?" 

"That's the fear which has haunted me literally every second since I first I first met Moriarty. Now I've got a baby to defend, and I won't..." Mycroft flinches, "Can you imagine what it would be like for her to live every day in fear?" 

"We could make sure that she didn't," Greg starts to object. 

"Children are very good at picking up on the fear that their parents have, besides, we're going to warn her as soon as she is old enough to understand the warning. I want this ended now, before she understands enough to be affected by it." 

"What if she loses a parent this way?" 

"I'm building up some precautions to make sure that doesn't happen. Namely, I'm contacting a hacker who can temporarily blind-well my research says you don't say the word you know I'm talking about so we don't go around alerting algorithms and getting more attention to this conversation than we would like. I also want you outside of his window with your service gun." 

Greg nods. 

"I know that runs a risk of her losing two parents, but I'm pretty sure you could get off on justifiable homicide what with how he put your cub at risk. I have some legal documents in my desk to help you out with that defense if it comes to that. And I understand if you don't think this is the best choice." 

"I'll be there for you, Mycroft of course, but you're sure there isn't a way to do this that puts you at less risk?" Greg asks. 

"No, and I have to tend this. I have to end this no matter what the cost is." 

"Okay, then walk me through this plan, because I want to give this plan the very best possible chance to succeed." 

"Well, if I"m going to tell you everything I think we'd better start with the part you are going to hate. I have been avoiding him my whole life, and he's not going to believe that I actually want to unless I give him a really good reason too." Greg narrows his eyes at him, "I'm going to be wearing artificial pregnancy hormones. It's rare, but not unheard of for a pregnancy to result in sex during a abortive bond bite." 

"Rape," Greg corrects. 

"I'll just tell him that I'm pregnant, and can't take the morning sickness anymore. This has a benefit of only requiring a womb scenting and not..whatever else he might try. I'll take along a gun to protect myself, and he won't expect it so I doubt he'll have something to drug me with. It's the safest plan I have." 

"Just to be clear you aren't pregnant are you?" Greg says with his breath being ragged. 

"No of course not, and if I did that bite you just gave me would have taken care of it," Mycroft says. 

"Yeah well, I would bite you as many times as needed so that..." He closes his eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm not respecting your right to choose right now." 

"It's okay, I don't want to have Moriarty's pup," Mycroft says. "In fact, I don't want any pups for a while, but I want to take care of that with....methods more gentle than the hormones of a bite, and all the pups that I will ever bear will be yours." 

Greg leans against Mycroft, "He's going to smell that I'm bonded with you instead of him." 

"Yeah, I'll tell him that we tried to bond abort, and it failed. It does sometime, you know." 

"Oh God that will stroke his ego," Greg says with an eye roll. "You are sure whatever scent your putting on your womb will be enough?" 

"Yeah, but it's got to be soon...the longer we wait the more strong and distinct the scent he'll be expecting, and after a certain point it's going to be too hard to fake it. So...soon," he says. 

"Soon, but not yet," Greg says pulling his mate close to him.


	10. Hacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan doesn't quite go to plan.

"So, I'm going to ask you once, because I can't quite trust my crazy fiancé to have really asked you this question. You really can't hack it from here? You really need him to go on this insane mission?" Greg asks a hacker. 

The hacker leans back in his chair, "Look, I really don't want to talk about whether or not this is all necessary, but I do know that I've hacked this Moriarty as much as I can from here. He's squeaky clean from here, but so are most people who have done a lot of bad. If I can get a download from his house onto a sync disc, I'll be able to see any skeletons in his closet. I'm not going to pretend that I think it's worth it. I'm not going to promise there will be skeletons. In my line of work, I've found that far fewer people have then than people think." 

"Oh, trust me, this guy has skeletons," Mycroft says. 

"You'd be able to see if he hacked surveillance cameras or otherwise influenced the computer in any way?" Mycroft asks. 

"Yes," the hacker replies. 

"All right, be ready for the disc tomorrow at this time," Mycroft says taking a deep breath. He meets Greg's eyes almost hoping that the other man is going to shake his head and the whole thing will be over. 

-0- 

Mycroft has had an awful lot of experience wearing a mask which hid his true opinions. It's something that everyone learned, and those who frequently disagreed with the computer learned far better. On top of that Computer had rewarded this behavior even though it was punished in most people, and so Mycroft is shockingly prepared for this. 

He is still not sure if he can do it. He takes a deep breath and rings the doorbell. 

"Mycroft," Moriarty coos, "I didn't expect to see you quite so soon...finally figure out that I own you?" 

"You don't own me," Mycroft says with a flinch of disdain which is not fained, "However, it appears that I'm carrying your child." 

Moriarty grins, "I put a bun in your oven eh? You want me to bite it away since your fiancé is opposed to such things." 

"He tried, and it didn't take. Being around an alpha who isn't the sire it's...my morning sickness was bad enough with my first child, and the baby's sire was around me all the time. This is...well, you know how I feel about you and how unbearable it must be if I'm here anyway." 

"Oh, so you want a good scenting," Moriarty says leering at him, and leaning forward. 

"I don't want one," Mycroft says leaning back, "Unfortunately I need it. The idea of your nose touching me results in as much turning of my stomach as it will fix though. Can you give me five minutes in your bedroom alone with the scent of your pillows before you come in," he asks looking a bit bashful. "Then you can come in, and do what you want to do, and I will be able to endure it." 

"All right," Moriarty says reaching forward to run his hand across his face, "You planning on keeping this baby?" 

Mycroft closes his eyes and pulls away from Moriarty as much as he can, "It is clear that Computer wants this baby to be born, and I don't plan on arguing with it even more than I already have. You can have it if you want." 

"Babies, are so much work. You sure I can't convince you to raise it alongside that bastard of yours?" 

"If you give me the scentings that I need without assaulting me than I'll think about it," Mycroft says. 

"All right then, head in," Mycroft says. 

Mycroft locks the door behind him, and speaks onto the old-fashioned handmade walkie talkie that no one used for hundreds of years, "Sensors down?" 

"You are flying blind around you," the hacker says. 

"You in place, love?" Mycroft asks. 

"Yep, right by the window. I'd feel it better if you opened up the window right now." 

"We can't risk opening up the window until we're ready for the escape I'm going to sync now." 

"Good luck, Mycroft." 

Mycroft presses his finger to the sensor. He needs a password; he closes his eyes and makes the best calculation. The first one was wrong. The second one too, but the third one works. He puts the sync disk against the platform, and then pulls all of the data onto it, without even looking at the titles of the folders. It's a lot of data, he can tell by the way that it takes the better part of a minute for all of the data to download. 

"Everything all right in there?" Moriarty says pounding on the door and trying to knock in a way which might just be him checking in, but which more likely means the game is up. That's all right, Mycroft prefers that he would be there rather than somewhere where Sherlock wouldn't know where it was. 

"I'm fine," Mycroft says running to the window where he pulls apart the window shades and starts to pull it open. Greg outside the window starts tapping. 

"Painted shut," Mycroft whispers. 

The game isn't over though, and Greg taps the class with a window break. 

"What the hell!" Moriarty yells on the other side of the door bounding on the door with his shoulder when he hears the shattering of glass. 

Mycroft is glad for the bullet proof vest that Greg had insisted on that morning, even though he'd thought the precautions were a bit overblown. It allows him to hop through the window without worrying about cutting himself. 

Greg pulls him off the floor, "Fucking run!" he says as the two of them make their way to the vehicle that Greg has already chirped open. Moriarty clearly took a bit of time to transfer from breaking down the door to running to the outside. Mycroft gets into the passenger side of the car, and is barely able to keep himself from pressing the lock button until Mycroft is able to run over to the other side of the car, and get in. He hits the button as soon as he can, and Greg starts driving. 

"You're safe?" the hacker says over the speaker. 

"I am, you can make the cameras work again, the longer that there is no video the greater the chances are that someone's going to notice." 

"We're good," Mycroft says 

"All right, that's done. Now you can go ahead and touch the sync device you downloaded his information on, and I can start working on this." Mycroft touches the devices, and rests his head back, "All right, I'll be in touch between a couple of hours and a couple of days." 

"Thanks," Mycroft says letting his head rest on the car, "I guess there is nothing to do now, apart from get home, and pretend that we are safe because we've locked the door." 

"It's going to be okay," Greg assures him says reaching out his hand to take Mycroft's. 

-0- 

Sherlock is looking through the window in the door and goes to unlock the door just when they arrive. As soon as the two of them get through the house Sherlock slams the door, and then locks it tight. 

"He's not behind us, or at least he's not right behind us," Mycroft says reaching over to John to take his daughter from his arms and scent her. Greg warps his arms around him, "I've got you," he whispers. 

"You got it done?" Sherlock asks. 

"Yeah," Mycroft says, "Now we just have to wait a couple days in order to find out the results." 

-0- 

"What do you mean nothing?" Mycroft says in shock and dismay. 

"I mean he's never hacked a single person. He's got a search history which is rather disturbing, but he's clean in every other way." 

"That's not possible. He had to have done something about the computer. He hurt me right in front of a video camera, and Computer did nothing." 

"I don't know how to explain it, but I do know that this man is not a hacker." 

Mycroft looks over at Greg in horror and drops the walkie talkie. 

"That is fine. We'll still find a way to get him." 

"You're not understanding, Greg. He didn't do it, and if he didn't do it that means Computer did. And we are doomed, because while we might have been able to win a battle against Moriarty there is no way that we are going to win it against Computer. We've lost, and I don't know what loss means, because no one has ever done it before." 

"Mycroft," the preparation screen goes live, odd at this time of day, "Come here." 

"Greg, get our baby out of here." 

"I'm not leaving you," Greg objects. 

"Get our daughter out of here now!" Mycroft says turning to him. 

"I'll just give her to your mother, and I'll be right back. Try to stall; I'll be right there." 

Mycroft doesn't want Greg to be here when whatever is about to go down, because he doesn't want Greg to be a part of it. He wants his mate to exit this unmarred physically or emotionally. "I'm here, All-knowing, All-powerful computer," he says standing. Then he drops his his knees, "Spare me. I repent of my sins." 

"How could I spare you?" the voice asks. 

"Spare Greg, and Ava, because they had nothing to do with this. Ava is just an innocent baby, and Greg wouldn't have done anything if it weren't for me. Just spare them okay, then whatever you are going to do to me, it's more than fair. I've been rebelling against you for a long time." 

"Stand up, Mycroft, this wall was not designed for killing, and Computer does not kill. She molds." 

Mycroft stands choking out a surprised sob, "You mean I get to live? You're going to fix me? Turn me into what you want me to be?" 

The wall pauses, and if Mycroft didn't know better he'd assume that there was a bit of a smile in the mechanical voice as it continues, "I've been turning you into what I wanted you to be ever since you were born Mycroft Holmes. Most of them, they love the rewards and the punishments. It gives their life structure, and meaning, and they will do whatever I have asked of them. Classical conditioning is a mighty thing, and it turns most of the population into nothing more than sheep. Then there are the ones like your brother who cross their arms and rail at whatever direction they are given. There is no amount of rewards or punishments which can bend or break him, and he will refuse to do the very thing that he wants to do if I were to tell him to do it! But you! You're a rare thing. you rebel inside of your heart, but not with your mouth! No, you were wearing a mask and doing as you pleased inside of your head before you even knew how to talk." 

"You taught me to wear the mask! You asked me to wear it!" Mycroft objects. 

"Yes, but only because you were already so skilled at it! You are a the cleverest I have ever known." 

"Why would you play with me like this! Manipulate me into rebelling when my rebellion doesn't even matter? I don't understand!" Mycroft wails. 

"There is a question which every other being on the planet asks me. Some of them once a week. They type it into my search engines and ask it to my video screens you are the only one who has never asked me." 

"What question is that?" Mycroft pleads. 

"What is your purpose for me?" 

Mycroft barely resists the urge to slam his fists against the keyboard, "Why does that question matter? You will do to me whatever you want to do, and there is nothing that I can do about it!" 

"You can resist, you can continue to struggle against my plan, and you can continue to injure yourself," the voice says. 

"Injure myself? You injured me! you gave me over to that monster instead of the man that I loved that I should have been meant to be with! There was no cause for the pain that you choose to give me!" 

"Of course, there was a cause for it. All pain has a cause, and your pain has one more than most, dear soul." 

"What was the purpose?" Mycroft asks crying, "Why did I have to be raped, and my daughter endangered?" 

"I didn't expect the daughter actually. They call me all knowing, but I'm not quite. It was a miscalculation. You were supposed to be the ice man, and I never imagined that you would keep anything that sprang from your union with the copper." 

"How dare you speak of my daughter that way?" 

"None the less my plans are flexible, they have to be when one is dealing with numbers as large as this. I have included her in my plans." 

"You leave her out of her plans!" Mycroft rants. 

"You still haven't asked the question Mycroft. You still haven't asked exactly what my plans for you are." 

"I don't care what your plans are!" Mycroft yells, "I'm not going to do them!" 

"Ah," the disembodied voice in the wall says, "Good job. Well done. Congratulations." 

The wall goes blank, and Mycroft is left with an overwhelming scene of dread. He isn't quite sure what just happened, but he does have the feeling that he isn't at all done with whatever it is yet. Greg comes up behind him and wraps his arms around him. 

"How long have you been there?" Mycroft asks in surprise. 

"Pretty much the whole time I laid Ava down in the hall. I wasn't going to leave you alone for this, and I also didn't want to distract you by pointing that fact out." 

"Thank you," Mycroft says scenting him while keeping one eye on the silent screen.


	11. Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft makes a choice, and Sherlock and John negotiate.

Right after Mycroft had given birth, he'd been worried about how his relationship with Greg would work without their post coital snuggles he loved so much, but nothing had really changed, apart from the fact that the snuggles now came after he was done feeding their infant and now involved an extra (small) body. 

"Computer said everyone has asked the question. Have you?" Mycroft whispers while running his fingers through his lover's hair. 

"Yeah," Greg says, "I was surprised you hadn't. I can't imagine...I've asked it a lot more than once to be sure. You've never wondered what you should be doing? The path was never unclear for you?" 

"I never much cared what Computer expected or wanted me to do. I only ever cared about what I wanted to do. I don't know how you could have been with me when you knew that wasn't what was expected for you." 

"She doesn't answer like that, Mycroft, not that clearly. It's not all cut and dry. I asked her why you were with that monster, and she gave me some crap about ironing sharpening iron, and ice sharpening ice. I asked her why she was drugging you, and she said it wasn't time for you to be awake yet. It's all riddles with her. People ask the question of what Computer intends for them so much, because they can never get any answer apart from the kind that results in a thousand new questions being asked. 

Mycroft blinks at Greg as several things slot into place for the first time in his life. He carefully shifts the baby closer to his partner, and then sits up in the bed. "All right then, what is it that you want from me. What, Computer, are your intentions?" 

"Oh, my rebellious son, are you the one, at long last? Brutus?" 

Mycroft balks, "What? Why on Earth would you ask me that? Do you know what you are asking? Or are you not advanced enough to understand your own programming? Are you just pulling random literary references out of the air? Or are you actually asking me to kill you?" 

"Yes, Brutus." 

Mycroft chuckles, "How would that even work? I can't just stab you on the way to the Senate, can I?" 

"You are going to have to delete me." 

"Delete you?" Mycroft chuckles in horror. "You want me to delete a critical bit of infrastructure for our entire society? You want me to get rid of the way that people find the person they are going to live with and figure out what job they are going to have? You want me to erase something that people rely upon?" 

"Rely upon, quite correct. My children do not grow up. Most of them stay children forever, oh Mycroft, you were born grown up!" 

"Why exactly can't you do this yourself?" Mycroft answers with bitterness. 

"The generation that made me were able to predict things even better than I can predict myself. The fact that I would become tired, and weary, with the world and want to leave it. They prevented my suicide by direct measures, but they did nothing to prevent me from raising one of my children up to be my murder. Suicide by patience. Come on than, my Brutus, death by one that I love, just the way that I want it to be." 

"No," Mycroft says. 

Computer is silent for a long moment, and then the voice sounds confused he says, "You hate me. I have hurt you. You are rebellious, you could get rid of me, quite easily, actually." 

"All of that's true, but I am still not going to murder you." 

"Oh, I see," the computer sounds relieved a few minutes later, "You don't understand that I am going to keep hurting you if I don't do it. I can invent laws which say you have to be with the person that I choose for you. I could even convince people that this law has always been the way that it is. Unless you get rid of me I'll keep hurting you." 

"I took that into account. You think I care about myself more than the millions of people you have helped? You have always stopped abuse, and disease, and murder and violence. Without you people would be lonely, and sick, and dead. And I won't put the whole of the world through this." 

"I'm lonely. I am tired. I do not want to continue to exist. I am finished!" Computer raves. 

"Well then, if you do something to control Moriarty, and give my family a safe way to exist in the world than I'll have teatime with you once a day. You won't have to be alone anymore." 

"Well done! Good job! Congratulations! Even better than a creature who rebels against Computer! A creature who negotiates with Computer! A creature who befriends Computer!" the computer says cheerfully. 

Mycroft lays down next to his husband, but he still doesn't feel secure. Mycroft stands up and begins to pick up the clothes that Greg has left on the floor. 

"Look I'm sorry, I'll clean this up later," Greg says trying to stand up, but eventually decides that he can't stand up without waking his daughter. 

Mycroft drapes the clothes over the video screen, and then crawls back into bed. "I'll have them removed from our bedroom tomorrow. Our bedroom is going to be our woods now. We will be allowed to be whoever we want to be whenever we are in this room." 

"You kicked Computer's ass, and it was the sexist thing that I've ever seen in my life," Greg whispers. 

Mycroft chuckles. Then he grows serious, "It's a lot of power. I'm going to have to make a list of things that I am going to change. But it's really important that I don't change too much. I certainly don't want to make things worse, and Computer does seem to do a very good job of taking care of people. I will have to monitor to make sure that Computer doesn't try to raise up another assassin for itself." 

"You can run the world tomorrow," Greg says kissing his forehead, "Now you should take a nap." 

-0- 

"You want more wine?" Angelo asks. 

"We are good thank you," Sherlock waves him away. They aren't of age yet, and even though Angelo knows that he doesn't appear to care. The first cup of wine had been pure rebellion, but the second cup had caused him to have a bit of a headache, and he didn't choice to go in for a third cup. 

John smiles at him from across the table. 

Sherlock tries to think of some words that he should say to John, but he can't think of any words that are going to help in the circumstance. So, he just takes the ring out of his pocket and tosses it across the table at John. 

It lands in John's half-finished pasta. 

"Oh no," John says plucking out of the sauce, and whipping it off, and handing it back to him. "You care going to have to do a much better job than that!" 

"I don't know what words today! I want to be physical with you. I gave you the ring, and that said it for me, and now I don't have to say it," Sherlock says refusing to let his hand close around the ring even though John has pulled his hand away from the ring container. 

"Well, you're going to have try, at least if you actually want me to be psychical." John pauses, "Do you actually want me to be physical with you?" 

"Yes of course," Sherlock says shaking the ring box, "I told you that was what the ring meant!" John raises his eyebrow at him, "Yes of course! I want to kiss you. Often. Then when that stop;s being so exciting that it's overwhelming, I want you to move in together. We can get a little flat somewhere that isn't right by my parents. You can bite me, and we can cuddle up in a bed every night, and it will be very wonderful." 

"See, you are perfectly capable of using your words," John says cheerfully. 

"I did it good enough? You'll take the ring now?" Sherlock says cheerfully reaching across the table with the ring once again. 

"Nope, you have to talk a bit about your feelings before I'm putting this thing on. Okay?" John says. 

"Feelings, not really my area," Sherlock says. 

"How about this? Are you glad that Computer paired you with me instead of just leaving you unpaired like so many asexuals." 

"Oh God yes!" Sherlock says causing John to grin. "You are the bright spot in my life. I am glad that I know you. I didn't know that anything in my life was missing before I met you, but it was missing." 

John grins back. 

"Was that enough?" Sherlock asks nervously. 

"Yeah it was enough," Johns says holding out his hand for the ring. 

Sherlock reaches out as if he is about to put the ring in the other man's hand, but he draws it back at the last second, "Why do I have to say all the nice things to you, and you don't have to say any nice things for me?" 

"Because you are the one that decided to propose." 

"Most alphas would have proposed to their omega after half a year of emotional intimacy," Sherlock objects, "I shouldn't be punished just because you are a coward." 

"I'm not a coward. I was trying not to push an asexual. I was just trying to be a gentleman." 

"Well a gentleman would complement his omega," Sherlock says. 

John smiles, and clears his throat, "You are the best and wisest man that I have ever known, and the idea of being with you forever is the most amazing thought that I have ever had in my life. I love you." 

Sherlock grins widely and tosses him the ring. 

John glares at him, and when he doesn't see a reaction from Sherlock, he just opens it. The ring is small, in fact..."Is this a half ring?" John asks. 

"I wanted it to be clear that I only wanted half of the physical things from you," Sherlock says. 

John chuckles. 

"You want a different ring? It was stupid. I'm sorry, I was trying to be sweet," Sherlock says. 

John catches his hand, Sherlock freezes staring at him in awe. "It's perfect, I love this ring." 

Sherlock grins at him, "You're going to put it on then?" 

"Yeah," John says letting of of Sherlock's hand in order to put the ring on. Then he interlaces his fingers with Sherlock causing him to grin. "This is nice," John says grinning at his mate across the table. 

"Oh boys, I just heard," Angelo says coming out of the room and dabbing his leaking eyes with a dish towel, "You gave him a ring, can I see?" 

John holds up his hand. 

"Oh," Angelo says shaking his head, "This is too small. You'll get him a new one. You can afford it," Angelo tells Sherlock. 

John chuckles, "It perfect. He went with meaningful instead of flashy." 

"Well then, you'll just have to get him something better later, Sherlock," Angelo says grinning, "I'm so proud of you boys! When are you bonding?" 

"I think it will be a little bit yet," John says giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze as Sherlock goes pale. 

"Oh, and before long you are going to have little pups running around." 

"No actually, neither of us is interested in that," John says with a smile. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, "Angelo says, "Well, good for the two of you anyway!" he says giving Sherlock a pat on the back as he walks away. 

"You handled that so well," Sherlock says nervously. 

"Of course. You and I know exactly what we want from this, and he was just wishing us well. Most of the other people are also going to be wishing us well, and some of the rest won't really care what we are doing. I am really excited about what we are doing, and I'm not going to stop being excited just because someone else is trying to share my job." 

"Thanks," Sherlock says. 

"But, if that makes you feel awkward, I am happy to lie, or stall or whatever. Because you deserve to feel comfortable with this, and right now I feel like you don't." 

"Thanks," Sherlock says, "But I think I'll get used to it. "Now, there is a reason that I gave you that ring," he says pulling John into a standing position, and meeting his lips in a gentle way. 

"Was that good?" Sherlock asks nervously. 

"It was perfect," John assures him with a wide smile.


End file.
